Revelation: A Next Generation Story
by Palaras Andhek
Summary: Life has been relatively calm since destroying the Ultimate Power. The Charmed Ones have been able to enjoy watching their children grow and come into their powers almost demon free. But with a new supreme power on the rise, will they be ready?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed,obviously; You know th drill...**

**Note: ****I've seen a few stories out there already on the next generation of Charmed Ones. I was always really curious as to what the next generation was like, so I thought I'd try my hand at this... Just so you know, this is my first Charmed fic, so please rate and review! Okay, let me give you a few starting details on the Charmed children and their personalities:**

**Piper/Leo:  
-Wyatt: 22 year old Witch/Whitelighter. Intelligent and light-hearted, though he's not the type to cut corners in school or in his magic studies. Can be a joker at times, is athetic, and very evoted to his family.  
-Chris: 21 year old WitchWhitelighter. Very intelligent, but also somewhat high strung - a worrier. He is extremely protective over his family. Pensive and serious.  
-Melinda: 18 year old Witch/Whitelighter. Beautiful and smart - a natural leader. Enjoys playing sports, but is also the type you'd see as student council president. Very caring.  
Phoebe/Coop:  
-Prudence: 17 year old Witch/Cupid. Very much like her mother in appearance and personality. She is a free spirit and very feisty. Often lands herself in trouble, despite her good intentions. Very passionate.  
-Callie: 16 year old Witch/Cupid. Quiet and serious - a bit of a loner. Tends to enjoy reading more than an active social life, though she doesn't mind. She loves her family more than anything.  
-Annabelle: 13 year old Witch/Cupid. Baby of the family, though she hates it. She tries to transcend her young age by asserting her independence and confidence. She is headstrong and and tough, but bubbly and loving.  
Paige/Henry:  
-Pandora & Peyton (the twins): 18 year old Witches/Whitelighters. The twins are identical, and furthermore, look almost exactly like Paige. They are funloving and humorous, and by far the most artistic of all the kids. Pandora is very outgoing and personable, thriving on excitement and impulse. She wears her heart on her sleeve. Peyton just as personable, but guards her emotions closely. Out of fear of opening up, she likes to use her sarcasm as self defense. Both are very sensitive.  
-Henry Jr.: 16 year old Witch/Whitelighter. Extremely athletic - loves sports or other physical activities. He is kind and funny, but is also known for his quick temper. Fiercely protective over his family.**

Chapter 1:  
Melinda Halliwell was a dreamer – that much was certain. With the seemingly endless possibilities of her young, promising life, it was terribly hard for her to know for sure what career she might choose. It was equally as difficult to choose who she might spend a Friday evening with – between her mass of friends, male admirers, and her large, smothering family, she had too many options. Hell, most of the time, she couldn't even make the most trivial of decisions, such as what she'd eat for dinner, or what she'd watch on TV. But as a matter of fact, Melinda was a decided dreamer, never failing to revel in the reprieve and infinite opportunity of her slumber.

On this particular morning in December, Melinda dreamt of relaxation, something which had become so foreign to her recently. Between college interviews, mounds of obscenely difficult homework, Wiccan studies, and the endless drama of teenage romance, Melinda could hardly find time to sleep in the past months. However, each rare occasion upon which she'd find herself enveloped in the caring embrace of a reverie was a most wonderful occasion.

As the youngest child and only daughter of Piper Halliwell and Leo Wyatt sat beneath a reverent tree, reading a book and soaking up the rays of a fine summer sun, she felt a sense of unequalled calm wash over her. She noted that, as a partial whitelighter, this sense of calm should've been more familiar to her. However, as a second generation Charmed one, calm was a fleeting emotion only rarely present in her life.

Regardless, negative thoughts of stress and commotion could not penetrate the serenity of her dream respite. Wholly aware of the fact that she was sleeping, she decided to steer the dream in her own particular direction. She smirked as a sudden cloudburst bloomed over the horizon, and her latest crush, Duncan McCullough, appeared from behind the base of the tree to take a seat at her side. _Might as well call me the dream-weaver, _she thought, joyous over her own ingenuity.

"Well, Duncan. I'm _so_ surprised to see you here," she said in mock surprise, playing upon the façade of her own dream.

"I wanted to be near you," the blonde young man replied, flashing a spectacular grin.

"Is that so?" Not wanting to waste any time, as she was unsure how much longer this dream might last, Melinda leaned in for a kiss, shutting her eyes in the process. At the same time, she expected Duncan to be leaning in gently, as well, readying his dream-self to satisfy the teen's infatuations. However, instead of a soft, passionate kiss on the lips, Melinda felt a far more intrusive poking in her ribs. "Uh, Duncan. Why are you poking me?" She opened her eyes and the dream vision began to deteteriorate before her, until finally her eyes opened in awakening. _Damnit._

Melinda looked up to find the meddling poker was her cousin Peyton, just a few months younger than herself. She felt immediately aggravated as she noted the mischievous glimmer in Peyton's chocolate brown eyes. Being that she and Peyton, a near clone of her Aunt Paige, shared an almost sisterly bond, it was quite easy for Melinda to scoff at her in utter annoyance. She rolled back over, burying her face in her pillow with a groan and heard Peyton chuckle. Immediately, she snapped up at the sound, sneering.

"Good morning, good morning," Peyton chimed in a sing-song voice. The only musician in the family, Peyton actually had quite a lovely singing voice… when she was trying to sound lovely. Melinda knew that she was only trying to be a pest right now.

"What are you doing here at this time," Melinda asked groggily.

"I was up early this morning, or… all night. Wrote a paper, recorded a song I wrote yesterday. Then I decided to come over bright and early so your Mom could stuff me with pancakes and coffee."

As Melinda pulled the covers back over her head, Peyton made out her muffled words. "You're so weird, Peyt."

"Actually," Peyton began sarcastically, "the _really_ weird part is how I then decided to come sit at the edge of your bed and watch you sleep for an hour." If she didn't know Peyton like the back of her hand, or all her cousins, for that matter, Melinda might've thought she was speaking seriously. However, Peyton was known for her dry humor, which, at times, could even be rather scathing. Still, in her exhausted, half-conscious state, Melinda was finding it hard to take humor in Peyton's jokes.

"Seriously though," Peyton said, tearing back the covers from Melinda's body, "your mom wanted me to wake you. So get your ass up."

"Ugh, I don't know if I _can_ this morning." Peyton sighed, laying back across her cousin's legs, still twisted in her warm, comfortable bed sheets.

"Yeah, well… at this rate, Pandora would be up and ready before you. And that's just sad." Pandora, Peyton's twin and the more spirited of their identical duo, was not known for being prompt. Furthermore, she was known for waking up ten minutes before her siblings planned on leaving for school, and somehow managing to ready herself.

"Fine, fine… get off me, I'm getting up." Peyton smiled as Melinda stood drowsily from her rumpled bed. Finally getting a good look at her beaming and clearly over-tired cousin, Melinda couldn't help but laugh. Peyton wore the same jeans she had the day before, as well as a white tank top and wrinkled, blue flannel shirt. Her dark brown hair fell about her shoulders in messy curls, yet somehow, she still looked beautiful.

"Mission accomplished. Hopefully Aunt Piper will reward my success with another cup of coffee. She cut me off about half an hour ago. Can you believe that?" Melinda chuckled as she exited the room.

"You're going to crash and pass out before lunch…" _Payback from rousing me from that fantastic dream. _As Melinda made her way into the bathroom to prepare herself for the day, Peyton headed downstairs into the kitchen. By this time, her mother had made her morning appearance before work, and she expected her Aunt Phoebe and her three cousins wouldn't be far behind. The manor was bustling with family chatter and sleepy, teenage voices every morning. Peyton was consistently amazed by the fact that, despite how packed the house was, her Aunt Piper and Uncle Leo never seemed to complain. In fact, Piper didn't even mind feeding them most mornings.

As she walked past her mother, seated at the table eating toast and jam while lazily browsing through the newspaper, she placed a kiss atop her head. "Morning, Mom." Paige smiled and squeezed her daughter's hand affectionately.

"Good morning, sweetie." She put down her paper and looked up at Peyton with slight concern. "Did you have trouble sleeping again last night? I thought I heard you awake pretty early this morning." Peyton snorted as she brushed past her Aunt and snuck herself another cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, Peyton noticed Piper pass her a warning stare. Smiling innocently, she mouthed the words "Love you" and took a long sip from her mug.

"She orbed into the kitchen begging me for pancakes at six this morning," Piper said, preparing more toast and pancakes for the oncoming wave of Halliwells she was expecting.

"I heard you roaming around the basement earlier than that. You must've hardly slept, Peyt." Chuckling to herself, Peyton shrugged.

"Well, 'hardly' isn't exactly the right word…" Piper smiled as she awaited the scolding her niece would soon receive from Paige. Had she actually thought Peyton would be in trouble for her sleepless shenanigans, she wouldn't have found such humor in the situation. However, she knew her niece much better than that. With a wonderfully childish grin and a sweet little laugh, Peyton would brush off her mother's chiding easily.

"Did you pull another all-nighter," Paige asked reproachfully. Smirking, Peyton raised up her hands in mock defense.

"I'm going to have to give you a definite 'maybe' on that, Mom." After a moment of wrestling with the constant frustration she felt from both her daughters' flippant personalities, Paige sighed and conceded to wear the same playful smile adorned by her sister and daughter.

"I'm sure you won't find this situation as uproariously humorous when you sleep your way into detention."

"Please," Peyton said mischievously, "I'm far too charming for that to ever happen." As the laughter and chatter continued, Peyton took a seat at the table with her mother. As well, when Piper was finally satisfied with the amount of food she'd left waiting on the counter for her daughter, sister, nieces, and still sleeping husband, she joined them. Soon after, Melinda walked into the kitchen, immediately filling up a plate with pancakes and toast.

Taking the final seat at the kitchen table, Melinda uttered her "Good morning" greetings and dove ravenously into her food. Piper was always in awe of the fact that her daughter was able to eat like a gluttonous monster, yet still maintain her slight, petite frame with little to no effort. In fact, Melinda was able to maintain her entire appearance with very little effort. Piper grinned proudly, tucking a lock of wavy, dirty-blonde hair behind her daughter's ear, so she could better see her hazel-blue eyes.

"Did you sleep well, honey?"

Hardly taking a break from finishing off her first pancake, Melinda pointed over to her cousin snidely and said, "Better than this one, at least."

"Shut up," Peyton muttered, finishing off her cup of coffee. She then heard her Aunt Phoebe and three cousins enter through the front door.

"Good morning," Phoebe called from the living room, soon making her way into the kitchen with her laptop in tow. Her daughters, Prudence, Callie, and Annabelle scuffled in right at her heels. Phoebe, Callie, and Belle, after a few quick kisses to their family, quickly headed over to the counter to fill up plates and indulge in the enticing smell of pancakes.

"Morning, guys," Prue said, walking over to the table and leaning down on Peyton's shoulder. "Smells awesome in here, Aunt Pipe." Prue's vibrant personality and beautiful appearance, so much like her mother's, was always an exciting addition to the morning grind in the Halliwell manor. She was typically a very fun and lively person to be around, and Piper smiled at her niece's compliment happily.

"Why don't you grab a plate?"

"Love to… I've got some last minute homework to finish up though. Mind helping me with that Peyt? Mel?"

"Right, we'll 'help' you," Melinda remarked with a smile, standing up to add yet another pancake to her plate.

"I mean, you can fill in some of the blanks if you want..." Phoebe cast a reproachful glance towards Prue, who merely shrugged and smiled.

"Sure thing," Peyton nodded as Prue grabbed her hand and whisked her into the living room. Melinda followed them soon after with her remaining breakfast. Belle and Phoebe sat down at the table in a rush, wasting no time eating their breakfasts. Callie, on the other hand, stood at the counter with a single piece of toast. In a lot of ways, she was more of a loner, and so unlike her mother.

"Uhm, what time is it," Paige asked.

"7:05," Piper replied.

"I bet you Pandora didn't even roll out of bed yet…"

"Where's Junior this morning," Phoebe asked.

"He decided to hit the gym with a few of the guys from the wrestling team before school."

"Was he afraid his fine, physical form would wither away if he had to wait till school was over," Callie asked quietly. She was so soft-spoken it was often hard for her to be heard by people outside of the family.

"Well," Paige laughed, "he's meeting Henry later for a run. He wanted to get his lifting in now." All the women in the room couldn't help but roll their eyes just slightly. Henry Jr., much like his father, was a typical sports fanatic. However, he'd always enjoyed playing sports or exercising much more than watching them on television. "Anyway, I'll be back in a few. Hopefully I'll be able to drag Dora out of bed within the hour."

"If you need the power of three to finish the job, let us know."

Paige smirked at Piper's comment and exited the room in a haze of bright, blue orbs. Callie instantly filled the vacant seat, happy to be next to her mother. Even though she was so different from Phoebe in both looks and personality, Callie had an incredibly close bond with her mother. It was obvious that she didn't have many friends outside of the family, though she didn't mind. She loved her parents and her sisters, as well as her aunts, uncles, and cousins more than anything in the world. She was perfectly glad to spend all her free time chatting with them or simply enjoying their company. Callie was especially fond of her cousin Chris, who had grown into a serious and pensive man. He saw much of himself in his young cousin, and took special care to teach her what he'd learned from the craft.

If nothing else, Chris often found that Callie was simply far more patient than any of his other cousins, or even his little sister. She thoroughly enjoyed his long, tedious lessons and meticulous potion making. Melinda, Prue, and the twins were far too enraptured by other, more "exciting" events to stand Chris' lessons for any length of time. They often stuck with Wyatt's teachings, for he was much more lenient and light hearted. Junior, despite his rapidly developing powers, was yet to take a great interest in Wiccan studies, and Belle… well, Belle was Belle. She was only twelve, and her powers had only recently started to come to fruition. Both Chris and Wyatt feared having to impart upon her any sort of magical guidance though, as she was so bull-headed and fiercely independent. They decided they'd leave her teachings up to the real pros: their parents.

After finishing their breakfasts, the women piled the dishes into the sink, and Callie offered to load the dishwasher. Piper gratefully accepted her offer, opting to have a brief conversation with her little sister before everyone would part to attend school and their respective jobs.

The rest of the girls retired to the living room where they all sprawled out across couches and chairs. Peyton was stretched out across the love seat, looking near-comatose as Melinda and Prue sat on the couch opposite, finishing Prue's physics homework. Callie eventually sat down next to Prue, and Belle plopped down in a comfy chair next to them, swinging her legs over the plush arm. In just another moment, they heard who they immediately knew to be Paige and Pandora orb into the kitchen. They knew because they could instantly identify Pandora's troublesome laughter and Paige's exasperated groans.

Pandora sauntered into the living room, an exact copy of her sister, which in turn made her nearly an exact copy of their mother. She wore an exhausted and accomplished grin as she fell on the love seat over her twin's legs.

"Ow, Panda," Peyton whined as she was face down into the couch cushion. "Panda" was a nickname only _she_ was allowed to call Pandora.

"C'mon, move, Peyt." With some difficulty, Peyton sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to no avail. Pandora draped an arm over her sister's shoulder, leaning her head against Peyton's. "So, I'm a little bit grounded," she said with a smile.

"Like… for-real grounded? Or, I'll-sweet-talk-my-way-out-of-this-by-the-end-of-the-night grounded?

"What do you think?"

"I'm assuming it's the second one," Prue said, slamming her notebook shut carelessly.

"Of course," Pandora replied.

"Good," Peyton yawned. "'Cause don't forget the band's got that gig down at the Blue Room tomorrow night, and as usual, I'm expecting every one of you to come cheer us on. Even you, delinquent." When Peyton was fourteen years old, she had started a band with her and Pandora's best friend, Lexi, as well as her other friend, and now boyfriend, Russ. Peyton sang and played the guitar and piano, Lexi played bass, Russ played lead guitar, and his cousin, Ricky, had come aboard on drums shortly after. They called themselves "The Croup," and actually had quite the little following in the San Francisco area. They were starting to be hailed as an "Indie sensation" in the SF underground scene.

"When do we ever miss your shows," Melinda asked.

"Never," Peyton said with a proud grin.

"I can't wait till Mom lets me start going to see you guys," Belle said, forever frustrated with her insufferable position as the youngest of all nine Halliwell children.

"You might have to wait a few more years. As of now, I think our gigs are a bit _too_ rock 'n' roll for you to handle," Peyton said, her voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

"Oh yeah," Prue scoffed, "it was so _badass _the other week when you guys broke out in the middle of your set with a cover of 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'."

"Like from _The Lion King_," Callie asked with a laugh.

"Yes, from _The Lion King._ It was a crowd request. And for your information, _Prudence,_ we rocked the Hell out of that song." As the girls sat together laughing, each in their own tired daze, they were far too aware of how little time they had until the beginning of the school day. The chatter quickly died out, and Phoebe and Paige walked into the room, coats on and bags slung over their shoulders.

"We're off, girls," Phoebe said, blowing her two oldest daughters and each of her nieces a kiss. "C'mon, Belle." She ruffled her youngest daughter's hair, and the child-oriented affection clearly aggravated the "baby" of the family. Belle couldn't wait to start high school, and be able to drive to school with her sisters and cousins every morning.

"You better get a move on. You guys are cuttin' it pretty close this morning," Paige warned, as Pandora and Peyton arched their heads back for their customary goodbye kiss. Piper walked in handing Melinda her backpack and waving off her sisters.

"Unfortunately, I'm not urging you to 'get a move on'. I'm giving you the boot. Now get to school before you're all late." They all let out a slight groan before stretching out their limbs and grabbing their bags and books.

"All right, all right. We're goin'," Prue said.

"I'll be over later, Aunt Piper, for a lesson with Chris," Callie said quietly. Piper nodded and hugged her niece's shoulder.

"You know, we're really sullying our good name with all this group tardiness lately," Pandora joked.

"Yeah, and they're onto us. They know we Halliwells like to travel in packs. Like wolves." Piper let out a snort and shooed her daughter and nieces from the house with a smile. _Typical morning at the Manor…_

* * *

Halphas gazed upon the marred, waxen flesh of the corpse that lay before him, completely devoid of life as it rested upon the stone altar. His hands moved swiftly over the cadaverous body of his long deceased son, Orias, and his dark, removed eyes rolled back into a place inside of his mind, so far from the ritual he was performing. As his lips muttered the last of the incantation that would lift the preserving spell – the spell that had prevented Orias' body from withering into dust during the last fifteen years – his fingers trembled. He had waited so long for this moment to come, for the moment that would restore power and prestige to himself and his kin. To the moment that he – _Halphas, _a mere sorcerer– would restore balance and order to the demonic forces.

To be exact, he'd been waiting for fifteen years, since the day his son was carelessly destroyed by the Charmed Ones. Since the day they'd dashed all the hope and malicious joy his tired, grotesque form had ever known. Orias' destiny had been destroyed the day the Charmed Ones had killed him; just as well, they'd destroyed Halphas' destiny in the same, wretched act.

After the destruction of the Ultimate Power, the underworld had been completely thwarted and thrown dangerously off balance. The hierarchy of power which had governed the demonic forces for millennia was shattered by the Charmed Ones' influence. They were without a source, without their precious triad, and without the help of the Ultimate Power that had been promised to them. Suddenly, they had nothing, and in response to their loss, anarchy ensued.

Full on insurrection broke out in the underworld, as every demon was conceivably vying for governing power. The throne of darkness was open, and the first being to rise with exceptional power would claim the title. Upper level demons were, of course, prime candidates for such prestige; however, because of the imbalance in the demonic hierarchy, they were gravely outnumbered. Lower level demons attacked their superior counterparts in insurmountable throngs, creating not progress, but complete pandemonium.

No single demon could ever rise to power amongst such chaos. The most intelligible strategy possible for a dark being was to retreat into hiding, and wait out the fighting. Eventually, one demon would emerge as the strongest, as the new being to rule the underworld. However, at the rate of vanquish and the volley of power between all demons, a dominant force would not emerge for decades.

At the time, Halphas knew he had no purpose in this quarreling but to find some form of guidance. He sought out a seer, one who relayed to him a prophecy which was simultaneously disheartening and hopeful. This prophecy conveyed many years of savage war and disorder to come for the underworld, as the Charmed Ones conceived the next generation of blessed witches. However, it also prophesized a future date upon which the young witches' powers would come to fruition and a supreme demonic being would arise to restore balance between good and evil.

Not long after receiving this prophecy, the dark forces granted Halphas a premonition of great importance. This premonition showed the sorcerer a future in which his son would rise to power as the supreme being – his son Orias would become the next Source.

When Halphas shared this news with his son, putting great emphasis on the gravity of his destiny, Orias was elated. Yet, at the same time, he was filled with arrogance and a sense of invulnerability that would lead to his downfall. Orias assumed it to be his duty, as the future Source of all Evil, to restore hope and an immediate sense of order to the underworld. He devised a plan in which he would do so by killing the Charmed Ones and their kin.

Though Orias' plan was well thought out and heavily reinforced by a group of rather powerful demons, it was still no match for the witches who had destroyed the Ultimate Power. All but one of Orias' comrades were vanquished, and though the future Source himself put up an admirable fight, he was too confident to survive much longer in the presence of the Charmed Ones. The surviving demon, who was, by a turn of fate, Canicus' servant Alaric, fled fearfully to inform Halphas' of his son's vain demise.

Upon hearing this news, the sorcerer felt overwhelmingly furious and dejected. In losing Orias, he'd lost something far more precious than a son: he'd lost the power and prestige to accompany Orias' destiny as the Source. However, despite what the fates were telling him, despite irrefutable evidence that his son had in fact perished, Halphas was still convinced that Orias would eventually rise to power as the Source of all Evil, by any means possible.

Halphas quickly concocted an alternative plan, and immediately sought out the only demonic alchemist he was aware had survived the insurrection thus far. When he met Canicus, he divulged the fate that the Charmed Ones had stripped from his son, and by extension, himself. He enticed Canicus with promises of power and glory if he would only aid in conjuring the vanquished Orias' remains into a physical form. Once they had a corpse within their possession, they could preserve it from inevitable decay using a simple spell that Halphas had created.

With a solid and safely preserved body, Halphas would then have a vessel in which the Source's spirit could be inserted. Ultimately, at least part of Orias would remain to fulfill his destiny.

However, to call upon a spirit for reincarnation would be extremely difficult and draining for any sorcerer. Halphas was, perhaps, the most powerful demonic sorcerer in existence. But to reincarnate the _Source's_ spirit would consume far more dark energy than any single sorcerer could ever muster. In order for Halphas to complete this task, he would need to gather an abundance of power from low-level demons that could be easily captured without notice. Garnering such power would take a great, great deal of time and coercion, but that was the purpose of the alchemist.

Canicus had powers far better suited for collecting the energies of other demons. He himself was a rather strong demon, and would act as a great asset to the decrepit Halphas. He was physically tougher and more brutal – the perfect aid to implement the sorcerer's plans, no matter how long it may take.

Halphas' eyes refocused as a dark, violet glow rose quickly from his son's lifeless body. They'd have to do this quick – he knew that. There was never much time to waste in the underworld. Not with the ruin, the chaos, the utter blood-lust and the obscene hunger for power which had left the demonic forces diseased and frantic in the past nineteen years. If any being had even an inkling of what he and his companions were about to invoke, their plans would undoubtedly be thwarted.

"The preservation has been lifted, Canicus. We must make haste now." Halphas stood with some difficulty, his body creaking and cracking in the process. His companion, the alchemist Canicus, strode over to him, handing the old demon a clean, silver blade. Halphas took the athame greedily, adrenaline now coursing through his veins. Canicus grabbed the sorcerer's shoulder harshly.

"I know you won't be surviving the summons," he said gruffly. A slight grin reached Halphas' lips as he conceded.

"You're right. I won't." He turned to his partner smiling mischievously. "Afraid you won't be receiving your reward?" Canicus laughed darkly.

"Oh, I know I will. Because, you understand, if you do not assure the immunity and power I so deserve, I will attain it by other means." His gaze quickly fell upon Orias' lifeless body. "And I will use that newly attained power to make a fool of your precious son." Canicus reached forward to lay his fingers mockingly over Orias' forehead. Halphas grabbed his wrist roughly, the shadows falling over his face.

"You'll get that which you 'so' deserve," he spat, his emaciated cheeks sheathed in the darkness of his own lair.

Canicus quickly withdrew himself. "Alaric," he called. "Bring us the tome. It is time to begin." The alchemist's servant, a young and powerful, yet nonetheless foolhardy demon, walked in quickly, anticipation clear in his gait. He handed the ancient book gently to the awaiting sorcerer, and with a nod, was dismissed to the caverns of the lair.

Halphas caressed the leather cover of the tome fondly, pondering all the previous sorcerers who had once held it in their hands. All their power, all the dark deeds they'd ever committed with this book paled in comparison to that which he was about to accomplish.

"If my ancestors understood the sheer magnitude of what I am about to do… they would bow to me." A pompous grin played upon the corners of his flaccid mouth. The sorcerer dropped to his knees, opening the tome to the marked page from which he would read. With a firm hand, he drew the athame in front of his face. By the light of the torches burning around the alter, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the blade. "It is ironic to think," he mused, "that my end could bring about the beginning of a new reign of darkness."

"Indeed, Halphas. Your sacrifice will restore power to the underworld." Canicus pulled his black hood over his head. "The hardships we've endured for the past nineteen years will fall away in the wake of the Source's reincarnation."

Smiling, Halphas turned to the alchemist. "Make good use of your glory, Canicus. I've so missed it since the decimation of the ultimate power." The alchemist nodded. There was no longer time for talk.

Though Halphas felt unavoidably weak, he also felt the collective mountain of stolen power buzzing within him, ready to fulfill its purpose. Raising the athame high above his head, the sorcerer rapidly began reciting the invocation which would awaken the Source's wayward spirit. As the mantra fell vigorously from his lips again and again, he brought down the athame in a swift, slicing motion upon his right wrist. The recitation grew quicker, and he rose the athame again with the opposite hand to lay a deep laceration into his left wrist.

Halphas' voice resonated through the cavern as he crossed his gushing arms over the body of his deceased son. A harsh wind gusted through the lair, and Canicus wrapped his cloak tighter about his body. Watching from the shadows, Alaric gasped in delight and eminent fear at the sight before him. The floor of the cavern split open viciously as a dark glow burst through upon the ceiling. A low hum could be heard, as if from a distance, but rapidly grew into a busy roar until suddenly, an obsidian essence soared towards the top of the cavern.

The sorcerer arched back his neck in apparent agony, black veins protruding from his neck and face as though he might burst. Canicus was physically taken aback as the hovering essence shot down forcefully into the still, lifeless body upon the altar. A thunderous boom cracked through the cavern and a thick black fog was emitted from the cadaver's form.

As the boom echoed away and the fog dissipated, Alaric ran to his master's side, curious to see the aftermath of the ritual. There was a slight possibility that the power had been too overwhelming for either the sorcerer or his son, that it had torn them both to shreds then returned to the depths of its personal Hell. When the air cleared, Canicus took in the scene before him.

Halphas was nowhere to be seen. Potentially, the essence had swallowed him or cast him into a deathly oblivion. No matter, the state of the sorcerer's being was no longer of any importance. The thing of most importance in this moment was the state of the Source's vessel. Canicus hesitantly neared the corpse, anxiety coursing through him. If this had failed, the past fifteen years of his life would be all for naught. The possibility alone made him cringe.

He stood next to the altar, still clouded with a light fog. Looking down into the face of Orias, he held his breath. At first, it appeared that the ritual and all of Halphas' plans had been failures. However, as he arched over the corpse processing the anger growing within him, Orias opened his eyes.

What Canicus witnessed inside of those eyes was a swirling black abysm so intimidating and ruthless, he felt the instant need to fall to his knees. He found he could not move though, that he was rooted to the very spot where he stood. The body – _Orias, the Source – _sat up, his black eyes fixated upon nothing in particular, until finally they settled into an almost human blue.

Orias turned to face the alchemist, a twisted smile upon his scarred yet handsome face. If you had to guess by appearance only, you'd never come to the conclusion that this small, blonde-haired demon could ever be the Source of all Evil. However, gazing upon the wicked smile curling about his lips, you could almost taste the malevolence emanating from his small frame.

"Canicus," he said quietly, sounding no more supreme than his father had. "I do believe payment is in order."

Canicus could hardly believe his ears, yet he grinned feverishly, falling upon his knees to honor his lord. Somehow he managed to find gracious, adulating words. "Yes, yes, my liege. I _was _promised a reward." Orias nodded, still grinning.

"You've worked very hard in securing my reincarnation, expending years of effort and allegiance to the cause." Canicus nodded with grateful enthusiasm. "And for your devotion, you will receive all that you deserve… Canicus, I would like you to look at me." Canicus looked up into the eyes of his lord, the Source, and was gripped with complete awe.

Suddenly, Orias thrust his palm into the alchemist's chest, letting off an electrokinetic shock that sent Canicus into an immediate burst of vanquishing flame. In utter shock, the alchemist only had time to let out one final, anguished scream.

As Canicus' body disappeared, Orias stood, his face void of emotion. "I never did like him," the Source muttered, rubbing his hands together. "Alaric!" Upon seeing his master being instantly obliterated, the fearful Alaric had shimmered from the cavern in terror; however, he could hear the Source's call. "If you do not come to me, I will make you."

After a few seconds of waiting, Alaric shimmered in before his new master. He immediately fell to his knees, bowing down before Orias. The Source smiled slightly as he noted that Alaric trembled. He sensed that deep down, Alaric had an exceptional amount of power within him. But his cowardice and stupidity overwhelmed what potential he had. Nonetheless, Orias would make at least _some_ use of him.

"Stand, Alaric." The cowering demon complied instantly. "I have a task for you. Whether you survive is of no importance to me. However, if you die before completing this task, I can assure you, I will resurrect your feeble soul, simply to inflict great pain upon it. In other words: _do not_ fail me."

"Y-yes, of course, my liege. I will not fail you, no matter the task."

"Wonderful. I'm glad we're on the same page, Alaric," he patted the demon on the shoulder, chuckling as the puny servant flinched. "I need you to deliver a message for me."

"Certainly, certainly, my lord. To whom must this message be delivered? Will I need to take any lives in your honor?" Orias laughed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"By all means, do try. Though I'm not sure you'll succeed." Alaric gulped.

"Who will be receiving this message?" The Source paused, a malicious grin crawling across his lips.

"The Charmed Ones."

* * *

**Please review! I might not feel inspired enough to continure without some kind words and criticisms...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I had a good response from Chapter 1 (really happy about that!) and a few reviews, which of course, fueled this second chapter.  
Peanut-4ever: Thank you, and I like your suggestion! I honestly hadn't considered that before, but I like the idea of it (I enjoy writing the parent/child relationships), and I actually think it would be appropriate after the sisters' reactions to the events in this chapter : )  
Halliwell2389: Thank you for reading! I'm glad to have you hooked, and I hope you're happy with how quickly I tried to get chapter 2 up.  
desi393: Thanks for reading! I'm happy you like the family interaction... that's something I've tried to focus on keeping believable as well as likeable. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 2:  
**Chris sat cross-legged upon the floor of the attic, surrounded by a plethora of random ingredients and tools for potion making. Leaning over the black pot before him to pick up a sharp cutting knife, he blew a tuft of thick, brown hair from his light green eyes. He would be due for a trim soon, he unconsciously noted, though when wasn't he? Between finishing up his final year at the University of California in San Francisco, a part-time job, and maintaining the demon-free world he'd become so fond of, leisure had become an extreme rarity. He often found himself at a loss for time, especially pertaining to such menial tasks as errands and haircuts, or even the daily shave.

He handed the knife carefully to his cousin Callie as Belle sat idly by, clearly anxious to help in any way she possibly could. "Try not to cut yourself, Cal. A single drop of blood could offset the entire balance of the potion." Callie nodded, determination already set in her brown eyes. Under Chris' fastidious guidance, she was well on her to becoming a skilled and confident potion maker. She had already mastered the concoction of many basic potions, such as low-level vanquishing potions and protective potions. With his help, she'd even completed a rudimentary transmuting potion that had turned a caterpillar into a butterfly. The young man smiled proudly to himself for a moment. Though he did not often admit it, not wanting to seem conceited in any way, he _did_ consider Callie somewhat of a protégé.

Today he was overseeing Callie's preparation of a more advanced vanquishing potion, one which could successfully vanquish a mid-level demon, and perhaps do a moderate amount of damage to a demon much stronger. In her life thus far, she'd never found a personal need for such a potion – her mother, aunts, and older cousins had made sure of that. Yet Chris shared in the firm belief of his parents and aunts that his cousins and sister should be proficient in all magical practices. Not only was it part of their heritage (a very important part, at that), but times of peace could not be everlasting. Someday, they may have urgent need to make use of their magical knowledge. When that day were to come, it was imperative they were ready.

Callie took her time cutting off pieces of the Mandrake Root. She knew that precision was necessary to the art of potion making, and the more meticulous she was, the more efficient the finished product would be. Chris knew this fact as well, and sat quietly exercising his vast amount of patience, deciding only to interject in her mixture if she made a dire mistake. He knew that would not happen, but with his youngest cousin sitting in to watch, he was warier than usual.

Belle, on the other hand, was running short with patience. She liked action, and often grew anxious if she had to sit still and quiet for long periods. She briefly considered hearting away to hang out with Prue and Pandora, or even to sit in on Peyton's band practice, but she decided against it. After all, she had volunteered to observe the "great process" Chris was always raving about, and knew he'd be disappointed if she left. Still, she couldn't help but allow a sigh to escape her lips as she sat rapping her fingers against the floorboards.

"You're pretty good at this, aren't you, Callie? I mean, that's what _you're_ always saying, Chris."

"Uh huh," Callie replied, not taking her eyes off the cutting.

"Well," Chris said, turning to his young cousin, "Cal has made a lot of progress in a reasonably short amount of time. She still has room to grow, but then again, we _all_ do." He'd added that list bit in for instructional purposes, and Belle knew it. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "But in my opinion, she's doing really great." Callie smiled, putting down the knife to gather the Mandrake Root in her hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. She just seemed a little slow, that's all…" Callie stopped working abruptly, shooting her sister a sharp glance.

"Would you like to give this a try, Baby-Belle?" The young teen snickered at her older sister's insult. She hated being called a baby. "You can brew at your own pace. Then we'll see how long it takes before you blow the roof off the attic."

"Alright, that's enough, guys," Chris interceded sternly. "You're doing good, Cal, just keep working. Belle, you agreed that you would _watch_. You don't know enough to criticize yet. You're just here to learn."

"Okay," Belle stubbornly replied. "Sorry." Chris nodded and watched as Callie crushed the Mandrake Root inside of a small bowl, and poured it into the pot. She then looked to the list, identifying the next ingredient needed. As she rifled through all the items laid out before her, she looked to Chris.

"I don't think the Hemlock is here. Trying to trick me?" Chris smirked as he searched through the ingredients, confirming that, indeed, he'd forgotten the Hemlock.

"Nope, that was my mistake. I'm pretty sure there's some down in the kitchen though. Sit tight while I go grab that." Chris stood and walked quickly from the attic.

As Belle heard her older cousin descend the stairs, she leaned back on her elbows and said, "Why does he insist on walking when he could just orb down?" Callie rolled her eyes, gazing intently upon her potion list. There seemed to be so much her baby sister didn't understand about magic; or rather, so much she chose not to acknowledge about its use.

"Just because he has the ability to orb everywhere doesn't mean he should. And besides," she said, staring up at her sister with a raised brow, "you don't heart everywhere you go."

"Yeah, not when you guys are around to yell at me," Belle laughed. Though Callie felt the need to scold her sister, she also couldn't help but crack a small smile. Annabelle's personality was so different from her own, as was Prue's. In fact, they looked much different than her, as well. Both seemed to resemble her mother more, especially Prue, whereas she was a hybrid of her mother and father, perhaps more resembling Coop. She was a very pretty girl – equally as attractive as her sisters, if not more – with her dark, penetrating eyes and small, round mouth. However, in her negativity, she always felt very misplaced between her two beautiful sisters. Regardless, she loved them to death.

"I hope you're aware that you're bordering on personal gain."

"Yeah, sure," Belle replied casually, not seeming to care very much.

"Whatever…" Callie certainly hoped that Chris would hurry up retrieving the Hemlock Root. She was eager to finish her potion, and show her cousin and sister she was able to successfully brew a more advanced potion.

"Hey, so, I was wondering what time you guys were gonna go see Peyton's show tomorrow." Callie pulled out her cell phone, checking the time. Chris had already taken a few minutes, and she hoped they weren't missing the ingredient.

"Why… you're not allowed to go." Belle sat up, shrugging.

"Yeah, I know but-"

"Shit!" Callie shot up into a standing position, pulling Belle roughly along with her. As her sister was speaking, she'd noticed a tall, black-haired demon shimmer into the back of the attic. He was wearing black from head to toe, and his face adorned an amused sneer.

"What the-"

"Hello, girls," the demon said in a coarse, assertive voice. Personally, Callie had never encountered a demon on her own before, nor had Belle. Even though her mind froze up in the moment, Callie's instincts kicked in immediately as two fireballs flared up, one in each of the demon's hands. Perhaps she should've hearted out of the attic first thing, dragging her little sister along with her. However, the demon began his assault too quickly for her to even _consider_ doing such a thing.

The demon, Alaric (though they were unaware of this fact), launched two fireballs – one in the direction of Callie and one in the direction of Belle. Without thought, Callie raised her hands the second she saw the fireballs flying towards them. This would be the first time she really had to use her telekinetic powers defensively, and her heart immediately began to beat wildly out of her chest.

Using her hands, Callie sent the fireballs right back to the demon as quickly as she could. However, her aim was not precise, and the demon ended up catching both in his hands. She was momentarily taken off guard by this, and the demon laughed. He must've been strong, and that worried her.

"Chris!" As she called out for her cousin, the demon narrowed his eyes, focusing on Annabelle. With his own telekinetic ability, he sent Belle flying against the wall. Callie then made her first mistake, as she took her eyes off her enemy for one second, out of concern for Belle. When she turned back around, both fireballs were sailing towards her once again. She had time to deflect one, which then exploded against the wall beside her. Unfortunately, the other hit her square in the stomach, knocking her back into a table, where she immediately fell unconscious. In this moment, Chris orbed in with his mother, just a second or two too late.

Piper's immediate reaction to the situation was to freeze the demon.

"Chris, heal Callie," Belle called frantically, sitting up to rush to her sister's side. There was a shallow cut in her arm, and a few bruises could be sure to form, but she was relatively fine. Callie, on the other hand, was in need of serious attention. Chris wasted no time in beginning the healing. By the looks of her wound, he couldn't have started a second too soon.

"What happened," Piper asked, keeping her eyes upon the now immobile demon.

"He just… he just shimmered in while we were talking." Belle looked to be seriously shaken by the situation, and her voice trembled slightly as she watched Callie heal. It seemed to be taking longer than it should've, and she was frightened. "He threw two fireballs at us. Callie deflected them both, b-but he caught them." As Callie came to, her instant reaction was to search for her little sister, to make sure she hadn't been harmed. However, the second she opened her eyes, Belle threw her arms around Callie's neck, confirming the state of her well-being. "Callie!"

"Are you okay, Cal," Piper asked. Callie merely mustered a nod, as her eyes were completely focused on the demon. "What happened after he caught the fireballs, Belle?"

"Uhm, he threw me into the wall, telekinetically. And while Callie was distracted, he threw the fireballs back at her." Anger flared within Piper's stomach as she listened to Belle's retelling of their brief encounter with the demon. Had she been there, she would've completely destroyed him, no questions asked. However, her nieces had been left to fend for themselves, and though Callie had done a good job (especially for her first confrontation), they'd been no match. Now one thing was for sure: the demon standing frozen before her was not long for this world.

"Mom," Chris said, caution apparent in his voice. He stood beside his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is the first demon attack we've had in a while… I think we should find out what he wants." Piper snorted.

"Well, obviously he wants to die." Chris sighed. His mother could be incorrigible when she was pissed off. And nothing pissed her off more than an attack on her family.

"Don't worry, he will. You can kill him any way you want. But right now, can you please unfreeze his head?" Piper gazed upon her son, not wanting to comply, but knowing he was right. He was so level-headed, so logical and quick-thinking; for that, she was endlessly proud of him. Nonetheless, it was still frustrating to admit that appeasing her own anger was the _wrong_ choice in this situation.

"Fine." She lifted her hand to unfreeze the demon's head. It took him a second to register his immobility, but when he did, a quick expression of fear entered into his face. However, as he looked around to search for his previous opponents, a smile crept onto his lips.

"And _you_ are a Charmed One."

"Why yes, I am," Piper scoffed. "Now shut up. From here on out, you will speak when spoken to. And if you fail to comply with my order, I will start blowing you apart, one limb at a time. Understand?"

"Yes," he replied, grinning foolishly.

"Do yourself a favor and stop smiling. She doesn't like that," Chris added. The demon pursed his lips.

"As you might already know, it's been a while since we've dealt with any of _your kind_. Especially not an upper-level demon." Chris raised an eyebrow, sending his mother a questioning glance. He had not exactly suspected this demon to be upper-level. "He's strong," Piper said to her son. "I can tell just by the amount of focus it's taking to keep him frozen." She turned back to the demon just in time to see him wipe the grin from his face. Without another word, Piper blew up his left hand. The demon let out an anguished cry.

"_Mom…_"

"What was that for," the demon yelled. Piper merely shrugged.

"He told you I didn't like that. No more smiling from you, pal. Tell us why you're here." The demon let out a low growl and sneered. As intimidated as he was, he was now also thoroughly angered.

"I am here to deliver a message," he spat venomously.

"From who," Chris asked, crossing his arms. Instead of answering the male witch's question, the demon began a recitation.

"_When the dark rebuked by those first blessed_

_Is driven back to its fiery depths_

_An age of light to follow that which precedes_

_Will cultivate nine blessed seeds_

_As their powers grow in unequalled allowance_

_The light shall tip in harsh imbalance_

_For when these seeds come into bloom_

_The source will wake, his reign resumed."_ The entire room took pause, and for a moment, all was silent. Callie finally stood and neared her aunt, Belle following close behind.

"From who," Chris asked again, this time far more stern.

"That seems kind of obvious," Belle whispered to her sister, who hit her disapprovingly on the arm. Piper reached back to put her hand on Callie's shoulder. Though she did not look back to face the girls, they knew she had done so to intervene, to silently request their cooperation.

"As a matter of fact, the young, pretty one is correct. All you have to do is _read between the lines -"_ Piper threw up her hands to blow up the demon's right arm. He let out another cry of anguish, followed by a hideous snarl.

"That's enough. I want a straight answer from you: are you telling me that the Source has been reincarnated again?" Instead of answering, the demon let out a raucous laugh. _"I'll take that as a 'yes'."_ And with that, Piper blew the demon to bits.

For many moments, the room was fixed in a vacuous silence. Chris' face was drowned in somber, serious thought, and both the girls looked confused, worried, and slightly frightened. However, this situation was not entirely foreign to Chris. The first few years of his life had been steeped in demonic activity. Though he may not remember these first few years clearly, if at all, in the back of his mind he had catalogued the impact they'd had on him, his brother, and the rest of his family. Since then, he'd encountered many demons, but none terribly powerful. In fact, he'd encountered few even as powerful as the one Piper had just vanquished. Truly, the last nineteen years, save a few rare encounters, _had_ been very peaceful. Piper now feared this peace was about to end.

The Charmed One turned to her nieces who, much like her daughter, nephew, and other nieces, were quite new to the world of demons. Their entire lives they'd had the luxury of being shielded from demonic activity, and now that luxury was about to crumble away. She was certain that they were unsure what they should think about their recent encounter. She was also certain that it had left they deeply unsettled. _Well, _she thought sadly to herself, _maybe they better get used to it._ She shook the thought from her mind, not yet wanting to come to such a harsh conclusion. She placed an arm around Callie's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. For God's sake, the poor kid had almost just been killed by a demon… and on her first confrontation. She seemed to be handling it rather well, but Piper still felt bad for her.

"That was quite the injury you had there, kiddo," she said lightly, placing a hand on Callie's abdomen. Her niece nodded, as if shaken from a reverie.

"Yeah, that was, uhm, kind of scary…" Piper smiled sympathetically, and Chris began to pace the room.

"No kidding," Belle said, not taking her eyes from her sister. Piper was reminded of how hyper-protective she'd become over her sisters after they'd first received their powers. With the new and frightening influx of demons they'd had to contend with, it seemed each and every day brought a new mortal danger for at least one of them. At first, the fear of losing a sister, or the overt need to protect them had been overwhelming, to the point where she'd lost sleep many, many nights. She knew now those overwhelmingly sleepless nights may be passed on to her children, nieces, and nephew. That disheartened her.

"You were both caught off guard, and you did very well," she said sincerely. "I'm proud of you." Both her nieces smiled slightly. "Chris, I want you to go get your father and brother. I'm going to get my sisters. We need to have a family discussion." Chris nodded and orbed out instantly. "Girls, round up your cousins. I want you to stick together right now."

"Okay," Callie said. "I know that Prue, Pandora, and Peyton are over at Aunt Paige's right now. Or, at least, they're supposed to be."

"Good," Piper nodded. "Melinda is at soccer practice until five. Text her and tell her to head right over to your Aunt Paige's when she's done. Do you know where Junior is right now?"

"Uhm…" Callie thought for a moment, "He's with Uncle Henry, I think."

"That's right," Piper said. "Give him a call when you're with your cousins. We'll see you later, okay?" Both of the girls nodded and Piper hugged them tightly. "We'll see you soon, girls."

"Bye, Aunt Piper."

* * *

Prue and Pandora sat huddled together upon a couch in the basement of Paige and Henry Mitchell's home, sharing a thick, wool blanket. The basement was partially finished, partially furnished, and yet it remained rather frosty amidst the near arctic wave of December. Regardless of this fact, none of the kids really seemed to mind.

Prue studied hopelessly for a trigonometry exam she knew she would fail, and gladly welcomed any distraction that might come her way. Pandora, an aspiring film director, sat experimenting with different effects on her video camera, recording her twin's band practice. Peyton, at the head of her ensemble, was hammering away at her piano, belting out the vocals to one of The Croup's newest "hits" entitled "Broke Down Blues". Lexi's bass line thumped through the concrete floor, sending comfortable vibrations into the couch cushions as the cousins sat enjoying the music. Though they'd heard this song many times before, either in previous band practices or at live shows, they found that Peyton and The Croup played it a little bit differently each time, adding a new and exciting spin to each rendition.

As Peyton crooned over the final lines of the song, finishing off with a soulful piano riff and a roaring solo from her boyfriend, Russ, Pandora and Prue let out a few over-the-top jeers of encouragement. They were Peyton's biggest and most supportive fans – in fact, the whole family were – and they could be so excitable over The Croup's music that Peyt even found them to be _over_zealous at times. Nonetheless, as Peyton struck her final chord and let out a melodic howl, she couldn't help but smile at sister and cousin's raucous cheers upon the final cymbal crash.

"Maybe you should save some of that for tomorrow night," Lexi said with grin, walking over to take a seat next to Pandora. "You bringing that thing to the Blue Room?" She pointed to the camcorder and Pandora nodded. Her favorite film subject was her sister's band. She'd documented nearly every stage in their brief and progressing career as musicians.

"Of course! That new editing software I ordered came in the mail a few days ago, so I was hoping to get some good footage tomorrow to play around with."

"Wicked. Try to make me look extra sexy, if you can," Ricky, the band's drummer, added somewhat densely. Pandora laughed, for though she herself found him rather attractive and admittedly had a slight crush on him, she couldn't deny how dim he often was.

"Unfortunately, Rick, there's not really an effect for making people look sexy but… I'll see what I can do." Ricky grinned flirtatiously at the older twin, twirling his sticks in an attempt at seeming impressive.

"You're a doll, Dora." Russell and Peyton shared a scoff and a roll of the eyes.

"Dude, if you want to flirt with my girlfriend's sister, go ahead. But _please,_ do so with at least a hint of discretion."

"Yeah," Peyton laughed, standing up to place an arm around Russ' waist. "You're completely tactless, Ricky."

"Well," Pandora said, seeming almost annoyed, yet still playful, "if you and Russ get to undress each other with your eyes every chance you get, I think Ricky and I should be allowed a bit of public flirting every now and then." Peyton snickered, holding tighter to Russ' waist. She knew that together they could be quite openly affectionate, but never in a lewd or obnoxious way. In fact, when around the family (omitting the older cousins) they were respectfully reserved, only holding hands and keeping their secret kisses to a minimum.

"We do not 'undress each other with our eyes,'" she said defensively.

"Yeah, you kind of do," Prue added, keeping her gaze vainly inside of her trig book. "I mean, not all the time. Just when you play music together. And then some other times, I guess, when you're horny." Peyton gave her cousin the middle finger as Russ smiled proudly.

"Lex, that is _not_ true, is it?"

"Well…" Lexi shrugged, "yeah."

"You all suck," Peyton said, blushing in slight embarrassment as she buried her face into Russell's chest. Despite her caustic nature, something in her feelings for Russell, her first and thus far only love, brought out the softness in her. She may be guarded with others, but with Russ, she was an open and compassionate book. They were only eighteen, but they'd already been dating for three years, and her Uncle Coop, a _cupid_, sensed their love was as real and true as that shared by her own parents. Peyton had considered that one of the greatest compliments she'd ever received.

As the other teens laughed quietly at Peyton's blushing reaction and Russ' young male pride, they heard the basement door creek open. Prue especially was surprised when she saw both her sisters walk down the stairs. They were looking somewhat subdued, which was normal for the introverted Callie, but highly unusual for the brash and extroverted Annabelle. Almost immediately, Prue sensed that something was amiss.

"Hey, uhm, hi guys," Callie said meekly, not making eye contact with anybody in the room. Belle too was quiet, and seemed almost disgruntled. "Can we talk right now? I mean, just the family." Prue stood up right away, placing her hands on her hips. As a cupid, she had a heightened bond with the emotions of her sisters, and the disquiet was evident in both of their demeanors.

"What's wrong?" Callie kept her eyes to the ground now, but Belle spoke up, furrowing her brow at her oldest sister.

"Something happened, Prue." Belle turned her gaze to Callie as she spoke.

"Cal, what's going on?" The other cousins were alert now, and Peyton signaled to Russ and the other members of the band to give them some privacy. As the three of them exited, leaving only the Halliwells, the twins stood next to Prue, waiting for Callie's explanation.

"We were attacked by a demon," Callie finally replied, almost seeming as though she herself still couldn't believe it. Her sister and cousins clearly took this news as a surprise. Personally, none of them had faced a demon before, not without their parents or aunts present. Demons had never been even a slightly prominent force in their lives before.

"What?"

"Are you guys alright," Prue asked, placing a hand on each of her sister's arms. As she touched Belle's right arm, she noticed her little sister flinch slightly – her arm was noticeably swollen. "Belle, your arm is cut."

"Yeah, I guess. Not bad though," Belle replied, almost shrugging. Truthfully, she could care less about her arm. It had been cut, bled a bit, and was now swollen and sure to bruise; however, Callie had suffered what would've been a _fatal_ wound, had it not been for Chris.

"Let me see," Peyton said gently to her cousin, rolling up Belle's sleeve tenderly. Noticing the cut and bruise, she frowned, holding her palm over the injury. Though Pandora had not quite mastered her whitelighter healing abilities, Peyton had done so over a year before. As she healed Belle's injury, the young teen smiled gratefully.

"Callie, you're not hurt, are you?"

"No," Callie replied quickly.

"Not anymore," Belle added, still seeming shaken by what had occurred.

"Well, Jesus, what happened," Prue asked, truly starting to feel worried. As Callie explained her brief encounter with the demon to her sister and cousins, as well as the demon's encounter with their Aunt Piper, the tension in the room thickened. Their moods were especially sobered as Callie recalled the Demon's message – his prophecy – as accurately as possible. Though none of them were fully aware of the meaning of the demon's words, they surely understood the gravity of what they implied.

Could it be that their young lives would soon be plagued with the same demonic interference that had hindered their mothers for so many years? The very thought seemed so surreal to all the girls, as they'd hardly even had a dire use for their powers before. Hell, they'd probably only come into half of their powers so far, and their full potentials were yet to be realized. If the demons started to pour in now, they'd have to make some severe adjustments to their lives. They could probably still afford the carefree enjoyment they sought from day to day as teens, but they'd have to be far more careful. From the stories their mothers had told over the years, they could easily glean that demons were not considerate to the daily affairs of mortals or modern day witches.

"Well, we can… draw a lot of assumptions from that," Pandora said, trying to dispel some of the anxiety in the room. Callie nodded, for she'd considered that, as well. But she knew that the Source of all Evil hadn't sent a messenger to the Charmed Ones just to bog them down with worrisome assumptions. The demon had a singular message to express in his arrival, and that message seemed very clear to Phoebe's middle child. Perhaps it was because she was the only one of out of them all to feel the fearful rush and panic of a sudden demon attack; perhaps it was because she was the only one who'd been forced to protect her young sibling. Regardless, the situation was obvious and real to her, more so than to her older sister or cousins it seemed.

"You _can_ draw assumptions if you want to," Callie asserted, sounding more certain than she had in quite some time. It was rare that she spoke up, and when she did, she was serious. "But I'm not going to. That shit was scary, believe me. I wouldn't be doing Belle or myself or _any of you_ a favor by trying to placate the situation."

"So what are you saying," Peyton asked cautiously.

"I'm saying that demons are fear mongering and deceptive by nature. We don't need personal experience to understand that. But that demon wouldn't have wasted his life just to send us a deceptive message. The Source sent him. And despite how ignorant we are in all this, we can realize pretty easily that the Source would be the only demonic being capable of restoring the underworld to… well, the way it was when our parents came into their powers."

"You're right, Cal. We _are_ ignorant in all this. And I know you're pretty shaken and you feel like you have some greater understanding just because you were there-"

"Now wait a second, Prue," Callie interjected, suddenly quite defensive. "Don't undermine me just because _you're_ freaked out." Prue narrowed her eyes at Callie. She was prone to a short temper and hated any implications of her being cowardly, even in the least bit. Regardless, she was just as worried as the rest of them, no matter how much she might pretend otherwise.

"I'm undermining all of us. We hardly know shit about demons or about the Source. I mean, we're amateurs. Just because you've survived a single demon attack in your entire life does _not_ make you an expert."

"I think she's just being rational," Peyton said quietly, knowing she was treading in hot water. She was, after all, automatically expected to be on Prue's side, simply because they were closer in age.

"What do you think, Belle? You were there, too," Pandora said. Belle shrugged, not wanting to get in trouble with either of her sisters. She opted to take a more neutral position.

"I don't really know. I just think that… no matter what, this probably isn't good."

* * *

Piper, Phoebe, and Paige, as well as Leo, Coop, Wyatt, and Chris sat in the living room of the Manor, each as consternated as the other. For over an hour they'd been discussing the day's demon attack, the message that had been delivered, and the implications it had suggested. More than anything, they were concerned for how this event would affect their children, and how soon those affects would take place. They understood – though they were quite reluctant to admit it – that it was a great possibility that the second generation Charmed Ones' lives may soon change.

As witches, more specifically the _Charmed Ones_, they had their magical worries. They knew that the reemergence of a Source would mean drastic change in the way the underworld operated. For the past nineteen years, demon attacks had been far and few between for the Halliwells. When they did occur, they typically involved lower level demons who could be easily managed with a simple spell, potion, or Piper's combustion. In fact, these weaker demons were so easily vanquished by the Charmed Ones, even in throngs, that eventually, the underworld stopped trying. Still, every now and then the witches had a few foolhardy stragglers to deal with, but it was nothing they even had to bat an eyelash at.

For the past nineteen years, they themselves had lived in relative peace. As well, they'd made sure their children had no worries of any confrontation. After all, the Charmed Ones wanted their children to lead normal lives, and though they did not shield them or deprive them of magic, they made it so that the kids did not have a pressing use for it. In this way, the next generation was allowed to develop their powers in their own time, without the rush and added pressure of constant demon attacks weighing on them.

However, as mothers, the Charmed Ones now had even greater worries. They'd been so preoccupied throughout the lives of all their children ensuring that demons would not be an issue, that they now felt they'd neglected possibilities of their current situation. They knew someday the next generation of Charmed Ones would have a critical need for their powers, which is why they'd never been stripped of them in the first place. However, in allowing them to come into their powers at their own pace (some of them slower than others), they worried the kids might now be underprepared. With a new Source on the rise, the last thing their children could afford to be was underprepared.

Personally, the thought caused Paige a particular amount of stress, as she always felt she'd had far less time than her sisters to develop her powers. After all, she'd realized her powers at a time when her sisters were already well-developed and competent witches. When she'd joined them in reconstituting the Power of Three, Piper and Phoebe had an urgent need for her to hone her abilities as quickly as possible. Though she was able to do so, she remembered how much stress this crash-course in magic had caused her. She feared the children would be apt to the same nerve-wracking, burdensome treatment.

Wyatt and Chris of course were very well-developed in their powers, but less so the other kids. Melinda, Peyton, and Pandora all seemed to be on a different level magically. Melinda's freezing powers were under a strong command; however, she still had moments of falter every now and then when stressed. As well, her powers of combustion were quite new to her, and they were spotty. She could orb as perfectly as her brothers and whitelighter cousins, but she could only heal when absolutely necessary. Pandora's active power was a rather powerful cryokinesis, though it seemed she still did not have consistent intensity with it. She could orb, and only rarely heal, and was learning to trigger a cloaking ability she'd discovered as a child. Peyton experienced the same problems with her pyrokinesis as Pandora did with her active power. However, she could both orb and heal on command.

Henry Jr. was just coming into his healing powers, and was a very skilled fighter, as he'd trained in martial arts since early childhood. However, his active power, a growing form of optical thermodynamics, was still inconsistent. If he were to maser his optical thermodynamics – a power he'd excitedly likened to that of the _X-Men_ character Cyclops – it could cause devastating blows to demons. Unfortunately, Junior had accrued only a tepid interest in magic as a teenager, which was sure to change.

Prue, Callie, and Annabelle had all developed very well as cupids, and moderately well as witches, too. Prue had inherited powers of premonition from her mother, which had been active and strong since her early childhood. Callie, as displayed by her encounter with the demon, had rather strong telekinetic abilities, which she'd actively worked with Chris to develop. Belle, like her mother and sister, received premonitions, though not as predominantly. She was also able to levitate, though had poor command over this ability, as she was still quite young.

The sisters knew that if the children would hone their abilities as Wyatt or Chris had, they could become an unstoppable force of good magic. However, they had a long way to come before reaching this pinnacle of power, and they were still _so_ young. Like any normal teens, they all considered themselves mature and responsible in their own ways, and sometimes they were. But in an equal amount of ways, they were still kids. Hell, Annabelle was only thirteen, and though she would admonish her parents for even thinking it, Phoebe and Coop _did_ still view her as their baby.

Despite all these facts, as staggering as they collectively were, no one in the room could deny that something _had_ to be done.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Leo said, finally breaking the silence. He'd been the headmaster of magic school for a long time, and he had to approach these circumstances as an educator. "They're going to have to start focusing more of their energies on developing their skills. They can at least spend thirty minutes or an hour every night using their active powers or studying the Book of Shadows. They could even clock in a few hours every weekend at magic school." Paige shook her head somberly, unable to think of anything but her children and the comfortable lives they would potentially leave behind.

"This feels so unfair. I mean, I remember how it was being a teenager. Between school and a social life and trying to do all the things you loved the most… it was a lot to balance. I can't imagine throwing magic and demons in on top of that."

"The forces of evil never cared about fairness," Phoebe stated, seeming frustrated. More than likely, however, she was still very unsettled by the thought of her daughter taking a fireball hit to the midsection.

"I know," Paige replied. "But we were already adults when we had to cope with that unfairness. It was easier."

"What other options are there though," Piper asked, remaining reasonably calm. "We can help pull the weight as much as we can. I'll kill every demon I see, just like I know you will, and Phoebe will. But inevitably, there will be times when the kids are left to fend for themselves. And if today was any indication of how well they might fare without proper training and guidance… they need to step up." The room fell silent again, and Wyatt stood. He'd grown into a tall and handsome young man with dirty blonde hair and soft, blue eyes. His stature demanded attention under any circumstances.

"Chris and I are the most prepared for this turn of events, obviously. I can't speak for him, but I will take responsibility in making sure everyone is ready."

"I'm with Wyatt," Chris added. "The lessons I've been having so far have been pretty casual. In fact, I think only Callie has really taken them seriously." Coop grinned from the corner, always proud of his quiet young daughter. "But I think that if they all realize the necessity of learning their powers, their level of dedication will go up without any further prodding." The Charmed Ones, as well as Leo and Coop nodded in agreement. Despite their ongoing reluctance, particularly in Paige and Phoebe, they knew that, unfortunately, their children's lives would just have to become harder. They'd all resigned themselves to this fact in the past thirty minutes or so, each coming to terms with it in their own ways.

"You know," Paige sighed, "I guess we always knew this would happen at some point. It was just so hard to imagine the kids taking our places… I mean, I'm still having trouble picturing it. Their lives have been so_ normal_ until now. We used to dream about a demon-free world and quiet, peaceful lives. The only dreams they've had any need for so far are just so…"

"Normal," Phoebe finished with a light smile.

"Yeah. I mean, Jesus, Peyton wants to be a rock star," Paige chuckled, though not in a way that underestimated her daughter. If Peyton wanted to be a rock star or Pandora wanted to be a director or Junior wanted be… well, whatever he decided he was going to be on a weekly basis, then that's what their determination would assure they'd become. Still, those dreams of theirs, compared to the demonically challenged ones she and her sisters had faced, seemed so blithe. She hated to think those dreams might soon transform into something more solemn and far less fantastic.

"Paige, the kids will still become whatever they truly wish to be. We'll make sure of that," Leo said confidently.

"Any silly, fleeting dream they might have – we'll make sure it comes true." Phoebe walked over to place an arm around Paige's shoulder, and Piper's brow furrowed rather seriously - she'd never felt so determined in her life. Gazing upon her sons, she knew they would lead their sister and cousins to power and safety, perhaps more so than she or her sisters would.

The Charmed Ones would do everything in their power to fight off this new wave of evil, of course; however, the Source's prophetic message made it abundantly clear that this was their children's destiny – not their own. Regardless, Piper would fight, as would Phoebe and Paige. Even Coop, Leo, and Henry Sr. would fight. They would all fight to their dying breath, sticking by the sides of their children and family and ensuring that the greater good would overcome all opposing forces.

"You boys know you're going to have to fight like Hell," Piper said to Wyatt and Chris. "I'm not sure for how long. Maybe your battles will last only as long as ours did. Maybe they will last longer, or perhaps even shorter. No matter how long they last, you can't stop fighting, even when you really want to." Both the young men nodded.

"We know that, Mom. And we'll make sure the others know that, too."

"Good," Piper said. "But as long as you keep fighting, just know that we will, too. That's a promise."

* * *

**I hope you liked this chapter... please review! (Your kind words and criticisms make me smile...)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, this chapter is a little bit shorter, and maybe not as exciting. After all, plans are still being set in motion for the Charmed Ones and their demonic rivals... I'm thinking there will be more action in the next chapter, but maybe more family interactions. Let me know what you want! I'll consider all suggestions, so please, keep them coming. I love to read reviews...**

Chapter 3:  
Orias sat calmly upon a seat of black granite – his makeshift throne – and gazed about the remnants of Halphas' former lair. The withering alchemist had done quite a fair job of shielding himself from the chaos of the demonic world for many years. Nonetheless, within days, perhaps even hours of his death, bottom-feeding scum had made an attempt to ransack his cavern. They plundered its depths for ancient tomes, potions, and other relics that were of no use to foolish, power deficient beings. However, these precious items could be sold or traded at a high price, and the demons knew that.

Every last thieving scoundrel, disbelieving of the Source's reincarnation, had been stripped of their treasures and tortured for their faithlessness. After a long, vicious day of torture and intimidation, Orias had set free the weakened demons, demanding they spread word of his vast power and influence over the underworld. He would restore the demonic hierarchy, and grant his brothers and sisters the order and prestige they sorely deserved. Once again, the Charmed Ones would fear the underworld and its demonic counterparts. Their children would cower and fail in the newly born struggle they were destined to contest with.

Demonic reign would rise above the virtue of good witches, tipping the scales one last time in the favor of darkness. This victory would be slow-coming, though it was also well-deserved. It would be earned through Orias' guidance, and his guidance only. He was a demonic messiah, fulfilling a dark and significant destiny. He was the Source of all Evil.

The young, blonde demon smiled, drawing rings around the rim of his iron goblet with his forefinger. Even within the sanctity of Halphas' cavern, the Source's new lair, Orias preferred to remain under the cloak of a human form. All his life prior to his untimely death, he'd had a great fascination with mortal beings. He in no way desired to_ be_ a human – not in the slightest – they were by far some of the most pathetic creatures he'd ever seen. Humans were frail – their life spans finite, and even rather short, for that matter. Their priorities were senseless, and their value systems based on false, fictitious entities. Whereas demons might perceive power within magical abilities, humans perceived power in petty materials such as money. Orias could never truly grasp the concept of money and the allure it held. After all, he was a demon – if he wanted something, he too had to work for it – he had to kill for it. To him, killing was a far more naturalistic way of attaining the things you wanted.

Furthermore, humans were so preoccupied with _love._ To Orias, the only emotions that mattered were those that could be used and manipulated to achieve power. Emotions such as anger, fear, happiness, and sorrow could be easily bent to match his own will, and therefore, they were the only emotions in his eyes with great significance. Love on the other hand… seemed like a mere fairytale. What use was love to a sentient being? All it seemed to do was cause elation or sadness – in the end, it would amount to nothing.

Humans were foolish and petty creatures. Yet despite these weaknesses and inherent character flaws, they had developed vast and imperious empires. Something in the emotional frailty of the human psyche had allowed them great ingenuity and innovation, qualities Orias genuinely admired. Even though humans were mere powder kegs of emotion, they were also, in a strange and non-magical way, very powerful beings. For this reason, they were great playthings for a prestigious demon such as himself.

Thus over the course of his life, he had spent much time among humans, observing them, twisting them, and deforming their very spirit. Orias had derived an excessive amount of pleasure over the years from destroying the hopes and dreams of many human beings. In the process, he had learned of their cultures and mentalities, and was allowed the chance to partake in the sinful indulgences of mankind. In particular, when he was young, he'd developed a taste for mind-altering chemicals and fine wines. Though he now had very little use or time for the former substance, he still enjoyed the flavor and extravagance of red wine.

As the young Source sat sipping from his cold goblet, the light from only a few torches cast their eerie, orange glow upon his fine features. His blue eyes glistened with power and the anticipation of intricate propositions soon to be set in motion, yet his lips settled stolidly in discontent. Prior to his death he had been an impulsive thrill-seeker, making mistakes for which he assumed there would be absolutely no consequence. However, the bitter kiss of mortality had taught him that his frivolous ways had not only been foolish, but plagued with personal contentment. Now, as a ruler, he could not afford the comfort and assuredness of contentment. He needed his own dissatisfaction to fan the flames of his determination.

Orias set down his goblet and sighed. Little by little it would dawn on him just how much work must be done before progress could be made. The underworld had been riddled with anarchy for so long that any sort of reparations to the disarray would require he expend an enormous amount of effort. His first task was to ensure the entire underworld was aware of his reemergence, and subsequently praising him. Even this first step would take time to initiate, time he had only a moderate amount of patience to withstand.

As the Source was pestered by these thoughts, a specifically appointed demon shimmered into his cavern. This demon, Sisera, had been an old acquaintance of Orias' before his death. Sisera was a relatively powerful demon, considered by most to be upper-level, whose greatest strengths lie in his cunning and utter brutality. He had, at times, been feared by demons who possessed more demonic abilities than he, simply because they knew Sisera could outsmart them. When Orias was reincarnated, he knew he would need at least one trustworthy and powerful ally to start with, before expanding his inner circle. However, he could not expand his inner circle of elite demons until his reputation had grown and all were aware of the title he held. Thus he concluded he must appoint a powerful demon (Sisera) to be his personal assistant, and garner recognition and allegiance from other demons.

"Ahh, Sisera," Orias called delightedly. The consultant fell to one knee, as was customary in the presence of such power.

"My liege."

"I hope that you are here to deliver good news. Please, stand." Sisera complied, standing tall. If not for the power he possessed, Orias would be intimidated by him. As it were, no demon or even _witch_, for that matter, could intimidate him.

"I was successful in locating a seer for you. He was disbelieving of my claims at first, but I assure you, it was with only modest persuasion that he has vowed his undying loyalty to you." The Source smiled proudly, finding humor in whatever pain Sisera had surely inflicted upon the seer.

"Then I assume he fulfilled my request with much haste."

"But of course. I left him with no other choice." Orias chuckled, at least feeling satisfied with his choice of alliances. "He confirmed that, despite Alaric never having returned, your message has been delivered. And with proper intensity, I may add. The Charmed Ones are unsettled." The Source nodded, knowing that with one task complete, he could waste no time in moving on to the next.

"Good, good. Unsettled, you say?"

"Yes, my liege. Alaric successfully wounded one of the witches' daughters before the elder Charmed One could come to her aid." Orias raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I honestly did not believe Alaric was competent enough to do such a thing – that is wonderful." Sisera laughed, pleased by his master's reaction.

"I, too, was surprised."

"Well," Orias stated, taking a determined stand, "now that I am certain the first phase of our restoration has been successfully executed, we can waste no more time. I will wrestle the entire underworld into submission if I have to, simply to ensure my presence is known. _And feared._" Orias bowed his head, knowing it was time to shed the human pretense he so often wore in solitude. His skin darkened as he made his transformation, marred with thick brown rings along his arms, which fanned across his face, as well. His eyes had coalesced into a lucid and frightful shade of crimson.

"Sisera," he said, his voice now gruffer, more imperious. "It is time we make our power known." With that, the two demons shimmered from the cavern.

* * *

Phoebe, Paige, and Henry sat together in the back of a dark and smoky club, inhabited by concert goers, the bulk of which were half or more than half their ages. Gazing about at the young faces, bawdy displays of public affection, and noting the combined scent of beer and cigarette smoke (and maybe, if Phoebe's teenage memories hadn't failed her, the faint smell of marijuana, as well) all three adults knew they were out of place. In fact, if they were not here in support of Peyton, they would certainly not be here at all. But as it were, this particular venue was frequented by Peyton's band, and all members of the family attended their shows whenever possible.

On this particular night, Piper, Leo, and Coop were working, and Wyatt and Chris were trying to utilize this time to prepare the weekend's magical lesson plans. Just about all of the kids were here to enjoy The Croup's concert, except for Belle. Phoebe still felt Belle was too young to be hanging out in such an atmosphere, much to the stubborn young teen's dismay.

"I've gotta say, she's playing a strong set tonight, all things considered," Henry added proudly, taking a sip from his drink. Paige had explained to him the previous day's events and concerns when he'd returned home from work that night. As a non-magical being, he didn't entirely understand the implications of the situation, but he could register the gravity. As a father – a very protective father, at that – all he needed to know was that his children may end up in mortal danger on a weekly basis. After he understood that much, he too could share Paige's worries entirely.

"Of course she is… this is what she's best at. She's not going to let her worries interfere with that," Phoebe said. She'd always loved to see her niece's shows, and current circumstances notwithstanding, tonight was no exception. "Then again, she didn't seem entirely worried."

"Are you kidding," Paige added, knowing this was not the case. "She's worried alright. But you know Peyt: she'd rather bottle up her worries now and deal with them later."

"It drives me crazy when she does that," Henry said solemnly, placing an arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Me too. Hopefully Pandora will be able to convince her to deal with it sooner rather than later though." The three adults fell silent for a moment, watching and listening as the band finished up yet another song. They were probably about halfway through their set by now, though it was hard to tell. As a young band, Peyton and the gang were all so caught up in the excitement of having actual _fans_ that they'd only stop playing when the audience stopped asking for more. Sometimes they'd only play for an hour, and sometimes they'd play for several. It all depended on how good of a show they put on that night, and how receptive the audience was.

As they transitioned into their next song, a cover of The Who's "The Ox," Paige spotted Junior making his way through the large throng of spectators. Despite the mass of people, he was pretty easy to identify because of his height. He seemed to be searching around for them, so Paige waved her son over. As soon as he recognized his family, he came strutting towards them with the smooth and cocky grin he seemed to wear so often lately.

"What's up, Bud," Henry said to his son. Junior stuck his hands in his pockets, digging out his cell phone.

"I think I'm gonna head out. Allie wants me to meet her."

"Allie," Paige asked, unsure of what girl he was speaking of. After all, her charming son seemed to have so many love interests.

"Yeah, Mom. You know Allie. I brought her over to the house a few weeks ago. She's the one with the red hair." Paige nodded as she suddenly recalled the girl in question.

"Oh, right, right. I guess I just forgot."

"But, hey, can you blame her, Junior? After all, there are _so_ many girls you bring home nowadays," Phoebe teased with a grin. Junior rolled his eyes, though deep down, they all knew he was quite proud of this fact.

"So is it cool if I head out?"

"Where will you guys be going," Henry asked.

"Not entirely sure yet. I think she wanted to grab a bite to eat."

"Well, you can go. Just text Mom or me so we know where you're going."

"And be home by curfew," Paige added. "Which means you shouldn't be leaving to drive home at eleven."

"Yeah, yeah," Junior said exasperatedly. "I'll see you guys later tonight." He kissed his mother on the cheek and gave his father a pat on the back before heading out. As they watched him make his way for the exit, Phoebe couldn't help but start laughing.

"That boy has got _swagger_."

"Yeah, or pomp."

"Hey, now wait a second," Henry said in mock defense. "Watch what you're saying there. I mean, he takes after his old man."

"Yes, exactly," Paige chuckled. As the three continued to chat and laugh, despite their preoccupations, each attempted to locate their respective daughters and nieces in the crowd. Usually they were all hanging onto the foot of the stage, cheering loudly and feeding Peyton words of encouragement and enthusiasm. Of course, all the girls stuck together at all times (no matter where they were, actually), unless one of them had scoped out a cute guy they wanted to pursue.

Tonight, Pandora was sitting at the corner of the stage as she sometimes did, filming The Croup's concert for her latest video endeavor. Melinda, Prue, and Callie had their chins practically resting on the stage, and had started to sarcastically chant, _"Free Bird!" _Peyton, who seemed to be in constant rapport with her family during her concerts, looked down at her cousins with a smile.

Peyton took a seat at her piano, staring mischievously upon the crowd as the silly chant her cousins had started grew louder. She flipped off the entire audience then, saying, "Here's your free bird!" Phoebe raised her eyebrows at her sister, who merely shrugged at Peyton's antics. Deep down, Paige knew her daughter was… well, cool. "Now how about some classic Croup! How does… 'Strawberry Jam,' sound?" The crowd cheered loudly, much to the band's excitement. "Strawberry Jam" was an old song from their first demo a few years earlier. Since the band had started gigging, it had become a fan-favorite.

Phoebe clapped, sharing in the excitement and anticipation of the rest of the crowd. Personally, this had always been one of her favorite Croup songs, and the fact that it had been written by her niece made it that much more thrilling. Quite suddenly, she was overtaken with the urge to smile, to put her worries on the backburner. After all, she was so lucky to be able to spend a Friday night surrounded by family, enjoying good music and laughter.

Phoebe searched through the crowd once again, locating her daughters. Prue was pumping her fist into the air, singing wildly along with her cousin and Russ' voices. Callie stood beside her, as usual quite reserved, yet still bobbing along to the music, laughing gladly at her sister's showy behavior. Noticing her little sister's reaction, Prue slipped her hands inside of Cal's, pulling her into a goofy dance. In any other situation, this display would've completely mortified Callie, and Phoebe knew that. But because her big sister was acting wild and happy, and her cousin Melinda was standing beside them laughing encouragingly, Callie danced along carelessly. Only her family could provoke such behavior in her.

"You know, I really think they're going to be fine."

"Huh," Paige asked, finding it more difficult to hear over the roaring music.

"I think they're going to be fine. The kids, I mean." Paige nodded, still in need of more convincing.

"You're probably right," Henry added, trying to bolster his wife's confidence.

"I know it's not entirely fair for them to have to shoulder this burden. They're only teenagers, but… that might actually work to their advantage."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, think about it this way," Phoebe reasoned, swiveling around in her seat to face Paige and Henry directly. "They have something we never had when we came into our powers: resilience. Specifically the kind of resilience that only comes from being young. I guess when you think about it, we were still pretty young, too. But we were adults, nonetheless. They're practically kids. There's a certain amount of optimism and capability that goes along with their age, and that's really going to help them." Paige considered this for a moment, taking a sip from her glass. In many ways, she hated to admit Phoebe was right. She so adamantly despised the idea of her children fighting demons on a daily basis, that in some unfortunate way, it made her feel better to discredit their abilities. She'd rather believe the situation was unfair and that her kids were unprepared than actually believe that this _was_ going to be their lives: fighting demons, making potions, putting personal affairs aside even when they didn't want to.

Regardless, deep down Paige knew that her children, as well as her nieces and nephews would be ready when they needed to. As soon as they were prepared for the long, arduous battle ahead of them, they would be successful. At times they would face peril and fear, and perhaps even hopelessness in certain situations, just as she and her sisters had, but they would always find a way to achieve their goals.

Sighing, the youngest Charmed One ran her fingers through her dark hair. "I hadn't really thought about it that way, Pheebs. I mean… maybe I didn't _want_ to think about it that way. The only thing scarier than them _not_ being ready for this life or… destiny, or whatever, is them actually being ready." Phoebe smiled, pulling her sister into a tight hug. She herself had shared the same exact sentiment.

"Let's face it," Henry said proudly, "they're probably going to kick ass." Both the sisters laughed as they broke apart from each other, nodding gladly.

"That's pretty much a guarantee," Paige said, holding her husband's hand.

"Have you really considered the fact though, that when they come into their full powers, they're probably going to be twice as strong as us." Phoebe stared ahead at her daughters and nieces as she spoke. To see them dancing and cheering like goofballs, or up on stage performing like a rock star, it was particularly difficult to imagine them as tremendously powerful vanquishing machines. Yet in many ways, it was quite easy to envision. Each new generation of Charmed Ones was sure to be stronger than the last, until eventually, they'd become virtually unstoppable. _You know, maybe evil just doesn't stand a chance,_ Phoebe pondered with a grin.

"Honestly, if I put any _more_ thought into this I'm going to give myself a headache."

"Yeah, I think you ladies have worried over this enough for one night. So how about I refresh your drinks," Henry said, taking Paige and Phoebe's empty glasses, "and you can just settle for enjoying the rest of the evening. The kids sure are…"

"Thanks, babe," Paige said, giving Henry's hand one last squeeze before he walked away. "He's got a point. This problem affects the kids more than it does us, when you think about it. Yet they're out there kidding around, having a good time. And he we are, sitting in the back of the club talking about demon attacks."

"Funny how quickly we revert to our old ways, hmm," Phoebe said sarcastically.

"It's kind of sad," Paige laughed, lowering her voice to a whisper, so as not to attract strange looks from those sitting near them. "But let's be honest: even with a new Source, the underworld isn't going to organize itself in two days. It could be awhile, actually. They have time, and so do we. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can relax a bit."

"Agreed," Phoebe smiled at her little sister before taking a quick pause. "In fact, I think we ought to make our way to the front – show those girls how dancing is _really_ done."

"Sounds good to me," Paige said, standing up and taking her sister by the hand. "Nothing like some grade-A parent/child embarrassment to raise your spirits."

* * *

Though the underworld had greatly deteriorated in the past nineteen years, and the demonic hierarchy had quite nearly crumbled, a few intelligent, upper-level demons had survived to maintain balance in power. These demons, instead of vying for instant power and making reckless kills, had opted to garner support from lower-level demons, reinforcing their own reputations. Over the years, these factions, though far and few between, had monopolized the underworld, standing tall as the only remnants of order remaining. Low-level demons had flocked to these factions, hoping for refuge and a boom in power that might help them survive the anarchy and blood-lust. Usually, these weak and foolish demons were used as lackeys or otherwise stripped of their powers and vanquished on site. However, a few elite were allowed to become active members.

Orias knew that in order to make his presence known and initiate the autocracy of his reign, he would have to dominate these factions. Despite the possible threat they proposed, he did not want to destroy them, however; merely, Orias wished to… enslave these factions. Rightly so, of course, for he was the Source of all Evil, and if these demons were to oppose him, or refused to vow their loyalty, then they deserved the most painful of deaths. But if they would devote themselves to him as was appropriate, they could be of great use to him.

The Source had assumed it most convenient to first strike at the top of the hierarchy. If he were to bind the powers of the uppermost demonic faction within his own grasp, then it seemed only logical that the rest would topple with a great deal of ease. Of course, he expected even the most belligerent and unwilling of demons would bow before him with only the slightest push. After all, there was no single or even collective demonic force more powerful than he, and the proof of this fact trailed in his very presence.

Sisera had done his job successfully and located the most reputable faction in the entire underworld, situated in the very heart of anarchy. Orias was admittedly rather impressed by the boldness of these demons, taking on the chaos and deceit of their counterparts with audacious confidence. For that, he respected the faction, and would make a concerted effort to spare their lives, making them his personal minions. However, if their reluctance willed it, he would completely burn them without a second thought. But that was merely the nature the underworld: respect was pertinent, but it granted no demon immunity from betrayal and greed. The Source himself would be in constant danger of mutiny and duplicity if not for his vast strength and cunning.

"And you are certain these demons are our greatest threat?" Sisera nodded, grinning.

"Indeed, my liege. Which also means that they will become our great adversaries… once they submit themselves to your reign, of course."

"Yes, of course…" Orias and his companion sauntered into a dimly lit cavern, much like his own, only far more lavish. The walls were adorned with opulent furniture and trinkets, no doubt pillaged from weaker demons. Though this blatant lavishness surely impressed opinions of wealth, power, and prestige upon lesser demons, Orias was unconvinced by the exorbitance of these beings. Surely, their dependence upon excess and appearance would play a hand in their rapid undoing.

As Orias and Sisera's presence became known to the well-groomed, well-dressed demons seated casually about the cavern, they seemed apathetic. For all they knew, these two intruders were no threat at all, and could be easily dealtwith. Needless to say, they were in for a near fatalistic surprise.

"We weren't expecting visitors," yawned a muscular, dark-skinned demon sitting lazily upon a large, extravagant throne. Orias presumed that this demon may very well be the head of the faction. And indeed, mentally sifting through the collective powers contained within the cavern, it seemed this one demon _was_ the most powerful. The thought of this particular demon cowering upon his knees in utter defeat brought a smile to the Source's lips. The tips of his fingers tingled in the desire to grip the windpipe of the head demon and choke him into submission.

"Should I have called ahead? Made an appointment perhaps," Orias said dryly. A few of the less powerful demons, more skittish looking males, rose to their feet quickly. These demons were clearly devoted, protective… Orias could use demons like this as pawns. A loaded arsenal of kamikaze demons was just what he needed. Then again, if they attacked, he would obliterate them in a mere second. Either way, they'd serve an effective purpose.

"No matter," the head demon said, waving off the visitor's presences condescendingly. Sisera smirked confidently, yet not without justification.

"Sisera," Orias whispered quickly to his assistant, "I'd like to handle the killing here. I feel it would be a sign of weakness if I were to delegate all my dirty work to you."

"Of course, my liege." Orias smiled, placing a hand on Sisera's shoulder.

"But do not worry. Your show of power will come soon enough."

"Pardon me," the head demon said, aggravation sounding clear in his gruff voice. "I find it rather disrespectful of you to come into _my_ domain and start whispering secrets to each other as though I do not exist." The demon in power rose, and with him, so did the rest of his sect.

"What exactly do you plan on doing about my insubordination," Orias asked knowingly. The head demon gave a nod to his underlings, and immediately, three of his pawns began an assault on the Source. If only they knew who they were attacking, and the power he held. If only they understood the absolute imminence of their deaths.

Narrowing his eyes, Orias sent the middle demon sailing forcefully into the far cavern wall. The other two pathetic beings were at his mercy as he raised his hands slightly to grip their necks in a telekinetic chokehold. The head demon stared on in wonder and burgeoning fear as his two minions trembled in the rigid control of Orias' grasp. The Source drew each of his fingers back into his palm, one at a time, relishing in the pangs of anguish that flared upon the demons' faces with each cracking vertebrae. The third demon arose and began charging towards Orias fruitlessly. With a delighted grin, he dropped the now inert, lifeless demons to the floor, and gripped the final fool bounding towards him. The last pawn stopped dead in his tracks, as his body was slowly engulfed in Orias' flames. He let out one horrifying scream before vanishing completely into his deathly abysm.

The minion's hopeless, echoing cry was the only sound to reverberate through the cavern, as all demons, including the head of the faction, stood attentively. Fear washed over them all in varying degrees; yet the only fear that mattered, that of their leader, was especially prominent. This fear was like a wonderful, exhilarating gift, granted to the Source for virtue of his boundless power.

"Who are you," the head demon yelped, hardly able to maintain his composure. Sisera scoffed at the demon, knowing him to be a worthless hack in comparison to his lord, Orias.

"Well, to put it quite simply, yet nonetheless still profoundly," Orias said casually, his now crimson eyes glazing over in the impenetrable blackness of all supreme evils. "_I am the Source of all Evil."_ The room quivered tacitly in flagrant shock.

"And how are we to believe that," the head demon growled. "The underworld has been without supreme demonic entities for nearly twenty years. No Source, no triad, only unbridled chaos." Orias nodded reasonably, stepping out into the throng of surprised and intimidated demons. They would bow before him soon enough.

"When was the last time you saw a single demon display such power," Sisera inquired. "And with as much _ease_ as our lord." Every being seemed to flinch, knowing very few demons, if there were any still alive, who contained so much power.

"There are a few remaining-"

"Bring them to me," Orias said indifferently. "I will destroy them effortlessly and swiftly." The shocked demons still seemed somewhat unconvinced. Thus Orias affected his voice in a deep, black boom that was thrown to all corners of the room. Simultaneously, the cavern erupted in vicious flames from wall to wall. These were some of the Source's more showy powers. As a modest demon, he did not care to use them often, but he knew when they were necessary. "Search if you must, for one stronger than I. Travel into the farthest, most vile reaches of the underworld. You will only come to realize that there is no single creature, no single _essence_ whose dark powers can rival mine. I _am_ the Source of all Evil." Now it seemed the room was more in awe of him than they were in disbelief.

"W-why now," one weak demon asked.

"The Source is but a concentration of dark matter that can neither be created, nor destroyed. I am his reincarnation, yet nonetheless the Source himself. Essentially, I am the product of a devious plan fifteen years in the making, created by a cunning and powerful alchemist. His intuition deemed me capable of restoring the underworld to his former glory, and so he restored the life that was once taken from me by the Charmed Ones. I cannot say why I have come to you now, in this particular month or year. I suppose the timing was simply… right. No matter," Orias stepped closer to the head demon, speaking to him directly, "I _am_ here, and on matters of business. Pressing matters."

"What do you need," The leader asked, fearing the worst of his existence. Orias stood but an inch from his face, and the demon trembled in the Source's apparent glory.

"I could take your life in a split second, negating the worth of all your life's struggles and triumphs," Orias hissed quietly, cradling the demon's face in his hand. "All that you've ever been or ever could be would fade from this world. Your only legacy would be your pitiful insignificance. Or…" Orias took pause so as to strike added fear in the heart of his underling. "You could be known by all as the leader of the most powerful demonic faction in the entire underworld. A demon who the Source himself sought for help in restoring demons to their former glory. Your life could be one of extravagance and power; your legacy one of prestige. If you and yours will only admit what I am… if you would only say it aloud and fall to your knees… I would protect you. With your allegiance and undying devotion, we will disassemble the chaos of the underworld one piece at a time, and enslave all who oppose us. And when all is new, when all is restored to what it once was, we will rise. We will destroy the Charmed Ones and tip the scales of good and evil forever in our favor."

The head demon's face paled in utter admiration for the supreme being standing before him. He fell to his knees immediately, never once taking his eyes off Orias' face. Subsequently, many of his minions fell to their knees, yet there were still a few who remained standing in confusion. Realizing this, anger flashed across the head demon's face.

"Fall to your knees," he roared. The remaining demons complied, and now all bowed to Orias. "Here before us stands our new Source… Praise him, fools!"

Orias and Sisera smiled joyfully at the ease of their triumph. It was in this exact moment that the Source knew: the entire underworld would fall before him, and they would fall _soon_. The Charmed Ones and their offspring didn't stand a chance.

* * *

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

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**Well, I actually don't like this chapter too much. My mind's been sleepy these past few days, but I still felt like I needed to get it down, because things are gonna start getting good, I think... Enjoy, and please review! (Note: in this chapter and from now on, dream sequences will be italicized.)**

Chapter 4:

"Alright, children, quiet down," Wyatt said tiredly, vying for the attention of his sister and eldest cousins. Realizing they clearly hadn't heard him, or had chosen not to, he yawned, taking a long sip from his coffee mug. There were a hundred things – no, scratch that, a thousand things – he'd rather be doing before noon on a Saturday morning instead of teaching these young hoodlums. First and foremost, he could be sleeping, or watching TV, or he could be making a lunch date with his current flame… Hell, he'd even rather be studying for an exam than enduring this torture. Unfortunately, however, he and Chris had been working overtime in the past five weeks, instructing and disciplining their cousins and sister. Every Saturday morning and Sunday night – post the family dinner – was now devoted to teaching the craft.

Wyatt had been assigned to the four older Charmed kids – Melinda, Peyton, Pandora, and Prudence. Chris, on the other hand, had been assigned the younger cousins – Junior, Callie, and Belle. This particular delegation had been upon Leo's adamant request, as the headmaster knew that the younger three would need far more time and instruction, and Chris was far more patient. As a teacher, he'd be more stern, and would spur much of the excess encouragement the younger three would need to progress in time. Wyatt was really not bothered by this fact – he knew teaching was not his calling, and he only had enough patience or enthusiasm to instruct the older kids. Besides, they already had a pretty decent grasp on their powers anyway, so he didn't have to do too much teaching.

Regardless, preparing his sister and cousins in the craft had been a rather trying experience for Wyatt. Despite his immense powers, his laid back and casual nature often made it hard for his students to take him seriously. Sometimes this aggravated Wyatt to no end (and much to the teens' amusement), though other times he merely shrugged it off. Maybe if I were as consistently boring and uptight as Chris they might listen better, the handsome young man thought with a smirk. Nah, not even I could take myself seriously then…

However, Wyatt would be remiss if he did not admit that all four of his students had made an impressive amount of progress in the past five weeks. He liked to pretend this was because of his impeccable and effective teachings, but he knew that wasn't the case. Truth was, Melinda, the twins, and Prudence were already incredibly powerful witches, and for the most part, they knew how to use their powers. They just didn't understand how to control their magic properly.

If he had a dollar for every time a window had smashed, a piece of furniture had exploded, or a curtain had been set aflame in the past five weeks, he would be a rich man. Consequently, if he had a dollar for every time his mother had had a conniption in that time… well, he'd be twice as rich. Unfortunately for Wyatt, he'd never be reimbursed for this tiring and difficult job, at least not in money. Ulcers, on the other hand, were a pretty reasonable possibility.

"Guys, are you listening? I said 'quiet down'. So shut up already."

"Well, Wy, since you asked so nicely," Melinda said sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah… listen. I had a late night and three hours of sleep. I'm just as tired and incorrigible as you guys are. Cut me some slack this morning, alright? If you just listen and do what I say – and do it right – I'll get the 'ok' from Dad and we can go nap. Got it?"

"Sure," the four teens mumbled lazily… well, three teens. Peyton seemed to have dozed off on her twin's shoulder for the second time this morning. Wyatt wasn't entirely surprised. Peyton, just like her twin and cousins was actually a very good student and perhaps his most cooperative… when she was conscious. She was more of an insomniac than she was a witch though, and Saturday mornings, especially those that followed the night of a gig, were quite difficult for her to manage.

"Guys," Wyatt sighed, furrowing his brow into his palm, "can one of you wake her, please." Prue nodded, prying open her cousin's eyelids with her fingers. Peyton snapped awake immediately, sitting at attention. "Morning, Peyt. Mind keeping your eyes open for the duration of this lesson? I designed it just for you three," Wyatt pointed to the twins and Melinda – his problem students. Their active powers had caused so much destruction to the manor in the past five weeks that his mother had very nearly popped a blood vessel. Prue's power – premonition – though still spotty at times, had developed greatly, and wouldn't put her at risk for blowing up the house anytime soon.

"Fantastic. Does that mean I can go back to sleep," Prue asked, already eager to make a break for the door. Wyatt stepped in her path, shaking his head.

"Yeah, you're not off the hook just yet, kiddo. While these three are practicing how not to blow up the attic, I'd like you to do just the same. Except with potions, instead of powers." Prue groaned, for her potion making abilities were rather weak and she absolutely despised the meticulous nature of brewing. "Go to the book… I've already earmarked a potion in there I want you to make."

"What if I screw it up?"

"Simple," the young man shrugged. "You'll try again until you get it right." Prue sighed dramatically and stalked over to the Book of Shadows like a petulant child. Noting her grumpy behavior, her three cousins snickered. Wyatt smiled as he noticed Prue flipping the four of them off out of the corner of his eye.

"Mel, stand up." Wyatt's little sister stood slowly, always so hesitant to take orders from him. Maybe it was the inherent sibling rivalry, but she'd always been the most belligerent during his lessons. She was in for a treat today… "Our lesson this morning will focus on precision and control… something you three are sorely lacking in." The teens shrugged, unknowing of just how necessary it was for them to have a distinct control over their growing powers. "You'll soon realize that our strength as witches is derived less from the amount of power we possess, than it is our command of these powers. Witches with far less power, but who also have far more practice and control could easily knock you on all your asses."

"You wanna give us a little bit of credit," Pandora scowled, clearly exhausted and maybe a tad hung-over. She was becoming more notorious for partying as she grew older, something she'd have to learn to live without when the demon-fighting really kicked in.

"Listen, I definitely think you guys could hold your own against some pretty strong demons. But eventually, they'd overpower you. So let's get started! Mel, I have a very… specific exercise for you today."

"Which is," Melinda asked hesitantly, noting her oldest brother's mischievous smirk.

"The power of combustion is extremely dangerous – I know that firsthand. When I initially came into the ability, I was blowing up furniture every other day. Unintentionally, of course, or… most of the time, usually because of a misdirected blast or wayward explosion. But, as you know," the young man smiled cockily, "I've just about mastered my combustion power. Didn't take me too long either. Now, all of my blasts are perfectly concentrated, perfectly focused. For instance, I could blow up a demon one body part at a time."

"Okay… is this actually a lesson, or are you just trying to brag?"

"Shut up. What I have here," he said impishly, digging around the back of the attic before pulling out an old life-sized Barbie doll and standing it on the floor before Melinda. "What I have here is an old friend of yours. Do you remember her, Mel?"

"Yes," Mel huffed, gritting her teeth. Sometimes she wished Chris could be her teacher. After all, she'd rather be bored to tears than teased and subjected to Wyatt's mischievous ways.

"Unfortunately," Wyatt said, putting on a fake pouty voice and pulling a black, permanent marker out of his back pocket, "Barbie has turned to the dark side." Melinda folded her arms across her chest in aggravation. Her brother then proceeded to scribble on the inside of Barbie's blue eyes with the black marker, and draw in a few angry eyebrows. "As delineated in the evil eyebrows and black eyes, Barbie is clearly a demon."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Mel. And I know you're upset," he placed an around his sister's shoulder in mock sympathy. "But over the course of our wiccan careers, we're going to have to make some tough decisions, perhaps even regarding those we once loved… when it comes down to it, you just gotta do the right thing. In this case, the right thing would be blowing up your demonic life-sized Barbie, one limb at a time."

"Really, Wy… really?" Melinda's cousins laughed from their respective positions in the room, and the young woman sneered.

"Yeah. Really. Now hop to it. I'm tired." Mel sighed exasperatedly, throwing her hands in the air.

"Fine. One limb at a time?" Wyatt nodded, taking a seat on the couch next to the twins.

"Start with… her left hand." Melinda narrowed her eyes, raising up her hands and taking a deep breath. Though she took her time before making the first blow, Wyatt knew she wasn't entirely focused. Melinda often had a problem with focus, just as her cousins did, which is why he had purposely riled her. Better she have a hard time and overcome her own frustrations than get off easy without any heckling from her big brother.

The thing to go, unfortunately for Barbie, was her right leg. Wyatt shook his head, stifling a laugh. "Well… that wasn't exactly her hand. Or the left side of her body. But, hey! It's okay." He sighed as Melinda's frustrations truly began to show. "I know you're pissed at me, Mel. That was my intention."

"Why," she asked, turning quickly on her heel. In that moment, as she glared at him in annoyance, she looked remarkably like their mother.

"Because you have a problem with focus. I'm telling you right now you're not going to blow up that left hand, unless the rest of her body goes with it. So prove me wrong. Focus." Melinda turned back around, seething determination. Wyatt truly did know her too well. Her anger came in different phases. She was now on to phase two: the spiteful, "I will prove you wrong no matter what" phase.

Melinda closed her eyes for another minute, drawing all her energy inward. She wouldn't get this right if her energies and thoughts were running rampant all about her. She held up her hands, visualizing her energy – her power – unifying inside her stomach, coming together into a single ball. In her mind's eye she then visualized her individual target, and imagined that ball of energy destroying it. At this thought, her fingers began to tingle, and the second she opened her eyes she released a burst of combustive energy that blew the Barbie's left hand to bits. She smiled triumphantly and turned around to see her brother grinning at her.

"I knew you could do it, Mel."

"Thanks, jerk."

"Glad to be of service."

* * *

Sisera strode into his master's lair tall, proud, and thoroughly assured that the gift he brought now to Orias would please the Source greatly. In the past five weeks, they had made so much progress – an admirable amount of progress, even for a demon as supremely powerful as Orias. They'd reigned every major demonic faction into their inner circle, garnering allegiance from all corners of the underworld. Any demons who had shown signs of insubordination or distrust were vanquished immediately and any who were unfit to serve the Source were eliminated. After all, any demon who could not serve his ultimate master had no real purpose in life.

In the past few weeks, Orias had been working on consolidating all the factions into a single, powerful sect within his domain. He had appointed every demon in this sect a specific position and title, so that no minion was left without work, or otherwise to his or her own devices. In this way, a new hierarchy was erected, and each being within this hierarchy was like a cog, always turning, always facilitating progress. Finally, with his pawns set in motion, working towards a common goal, Orias felt confident that they could finally make their first official attack on the Charmed Ones.

Of course, the Source wanted to begin with a bang, as surely and effectively as he was to end with one. He wanted to find one particular demon, powerful enough to terrorize all the Charmed children, discrete enough to maintain his terror for a few days, and unique enough to leave a lasting impression. This demon was not expected to kill any of the witches – of course, if he did so, it would be a delightful bonus – but Orias did not see that happening. The main purpose of this one demon would be to test the waters and gauge the capabilities of the new Charmed Ones.

It had been Sisera's job to find this special demon, and he was certain that he had. As he neared Orias' throne, alight with the orange glow of many flames, he kneeled. The accompanying demon clearly noted Sisera's etiquette and kneeled as well, excited to serve the new Source in any way she could.

"Sisera, I see you've brought a guest," Orias said happily.

"Yes, my liege." Sisera stood, and with him, so did the female demon. As Orias caught her appearance in the light, he noted how utterly… hideous she was. Her skin was a sallow and blotchy gray, dotted and marred with innumerable blemishes. Her eyes and nostrils were grossly large and enflamed; her mouth appeared to be sewn shut. Gazing down upon her bluish vestments, they too were as shabby as her facial features, and torn in many places. However, most unusual and somewhat unsettling, even to Orias, was the state of her fingers. They were long and ghostly, swaying imperiously about without even a slight breeze, looking more like intrusive tendrils than typical appendages. If her powers could match her horrendous form, she would be the perfect choice.

"Please," Orias addressed their demonic guest, "introduce yourself."

"My name, great one, is Maras." Her voice seemed to tumble airily from her unmoving lips, vapid and cold. There was something almost… damp about it. "And I am the Bakhtak demon." A quick smile curled about Orias' lips as he recalled what little information he knew about the Bakhtak demon. Surely no average, uneducated demon would ever have even heard of her. But the Source's father had been a great alchemist, and thusly a great scholar who had raised his son with a knowledgeable mind.

"I have heard of you."

"Is that so," the demon asked, inflecting thin surprise into her spectral voice.

"Indeed, I have. In lay terms you would be referred to as a 'nightmare demon'. However, a very powerful nightmare demon. Correct?" Maras nodded. "Unfortunately, I don't know much about the specifications of your work."

"My work," she laughed – a most chilling, ghostly laugh. "I am able to astral project into the dreams of my victims. If necessary, as I assume will be in the case of the Charmed Ones, I can cast various projections simultaneously. I cast these projections into their dreams and conjure illusions of fear and anxiety. My magic is so that these illusions can inflict bodily injuries upon my victims… even death. Yet they can do me no harm." Orias began to rub his hands together in anticipation. The Bakhtak demon would be a horrifying and painful distraction for the young Charmed Ones, and surely a great source of worry for their parents. After all, the elder Charmed Ones could protect their children in waking life, but only their offspring could protect themselves from their reveries.

"Maras, my dear… I do believe you would be perfect for the job I have in mind. But only with your personal agreement, of course." Maras smiled, taking a bow.

"My liege, I would be honored to serve you in any way."

"Wonderful, wonderful… how quickly can you begin?" A wraithlike grin curled about the nightmare demon's lips, and Orias could've sworn he saw excitement pass through her puffy, obsidian eyes.

"As soon as possible, my lord. Do you have any special requests?"

"Aside from inflicting as much terror as your capabilities will allow?" Maras giggled. "Attack the youngest first, if possible. They are most protective of her."

"Whatever you wish. I shall not fail you." Orias chuckled darkly. He could not think of a more perfect way to introduce the new Charmed Ones to their awful and pathetic destiny.

* * *

Paige sat at the kitchen table in the manor, quizzing her daughter and niece on potions and the respective ingredients needed to brew them. It was now late January, approximately five weeks since her family had received the dreaded fate she'd hoped they'd never have to contend with. Regardless, it had surely come, and she was still rather amazed at how well her children, nieces, and nephews were handling it. Granted, they were yet to face any particularly tricky demons, but they seemed… ready. Their powers and knowledge had progressed considerably, and even the most indifferent of she and her sister's children were taking their studies seriously.

As the three witches sat at the table reviewing their potions information, Piper busied herself at the stove preparing lunch. It was a particularly cold and blustery day, especially for San Francisco, and it seemed the arctic blast would be here to stay for the next week. However, Piper found the best way to keep the chilling weather at bay was a piping hot lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup.

"Alright, you two have been tied for the past twelve questions," Paige said to a joyful yet sleepy looking Peyton and Melinda. "I think it's time for an extra hard question."

"Better make it for the win – lunch is just about ready," Piper called from the stove.

"Okay, Peyt, here's the question: when making a vanquishing potion for an upper-level demon, you need a pinch of what kind of berry?" Peyton stared dumbly at her mother, completely unaware of the answer. Piper looked back at her niece and baby sister and couldn't help but smile. The twins looked so much like Paige it was uncanny. Peyton especially resembled her, as Pandora had taken to dyeing her a hair a different color every few months for the past two years. Peyton, on the other hand, wore her hair in the same long, dark brown waves as her mother.

"Uh… can I have a hint?" Paige shook her head with a laugh. "Well, can I have a clue?"

"You just asked that," Melinda said.

"No, I asked for a 'hint' the first time. Now I want a clue. Two different things."

"No… they're definitely not."

"Shhh," Peyton turned to whisper to her cousin in a loud and sarcastic manner, "She doesn't know that." Paige snorted.

"Ten seconds, missy."

"Okay, okay… wild guess: blueberry." Paige shook her head once again and Peyton shrugged.

"For the win, Mel. Do you know the answer?" Melinda smiled proudly before turning to Peyton and making her boastful reply.

"Juniper berry. Duh."

"And we have a winner…" As the two cousins sat making faces at each other, Paige heard the front door to the Manor open. Piper began spooning steaming hot soup into bowls as Phoebe walked into the kitchen shivering. She knowingly filled another bowl for her chilly sister.

"Hey guys." Everyone greeted Phoebe as she sat down at the table next to Peyton, wrapping her arms around herself. "Have you been outside yet today? It's freezing…"

"Oh, really," Peyton asked, glaring pompously and playfully at her cousin. "Let me help you with that, Aunt Pheebs." The young pyro began rubbing her hands together frenetically before draping them over her Aunt's.

"Wow, your hands feel so warm. Since when can you do that?"

"New trick I've been working on lately. I hardly ever feel cold anymore."

"See, your powers have their perks, don't they," Piper asked, setting down bowls and plates on the table for her hungry guests. Both the girls nodded, as though this fact still somewhat surprised them.

"They really do," Mel said, grabbing a plate of grilled cheese from her mother. "I mean, drawbacks, yeah. But there's definitely some perks."

"And what drawbacks have you noticed this far," Paige asked, swallowing a bite of her grilled cheese. Both of the girls shrugged, clearly sharing the sentiment.

"Well, for one thing, 'honing the craft,' as you adults like to say, is pretty time consuming. Not to mention frustrating and, quite frankly, boring. Or at least some of the time."

"Yeah, and it's not always easy to control these powers," Peyton said. "At this point I'm getting pretty good at it, but in the past few weeks I have been the cause of many accidental fires."

"My furniture can attest to that," Piper nodded.

"Yeah, so can our calc teacher's desk," Melinda mumbled.

"What?"

"Accidents happen – don't ask," Peyton hastily added.

"I don't want to, but-"

"So," Peyton pointedly interrupted, avoiding any possible lecture she was sure to receive from her mother. She knew the risks of exposure, the danger in losing control of her powers, so on, etc. She'd heard it all before, probably hundreds of times since she was a kid. And she definitely hadn't meant to set her teacher's desk on fire… not that the woman didn't deserve it, but she'd felt so guilty about it afterwards. "Should I go wake up Baby Belle for lunch? Kid's been zonked out for about a half an hour already."

"Nah," Phoebe shrugged, "let her sleep. You know how grumpy she gets when you wake her from a nap."

"She pretty much acts like a bitch," Mel laughed.

"Not unlike how a sister of mine used to act when she was younger," Piper mumbled, casting her middle sister an insinuating glance. Phoebe rolled her eyes and slapped her big sister playfully on the arm. No matter how old the three sisters might get, there would always be times when they'd act like kids with each other.

The five witches chatted and continued to eat their lunches. When they'd finally finished, each went on to whatever business they might need to tend to. Paige opted to help Piper clean up the kitchen while Mel and Peyton orbed out to meet their cousins and siblings for whatever teenage shenanigans they had planned that evening. Phoebe, who after fifteen years of writing a weekly advice column now maintained her own advice blog, had some work to do. With the kids out of the house, Leo working with his sons, and her sisters quietly talking over dishes, Phoebe decided to do her work in the living room.

She plopped down on the loveseat opposite the couch where her sleeping daughter lay, and opened her laptop. Over the years, especially since the release of her novel, Phoebe's blog had grown to be quite popular among romantically inept people all over the country. Each week brought a new influx of questions to her mail box, and even though she wished she could reply to every conundrum, she typically only had time to choose the most dire, dramatic, or otherwise bizarre. The current reply she was working on involved a middle-aged woman with a very serious Elektra Complex.

Currently, Phoebe's working conditions were perfect: warm house, soft couch, and lots of quiet. However, she still found herself quite distracted from her writing, despite the well thought out reply she'd formulated in her head. The problem was that her empathy seemed to be acting up, as she was sensing a bit of distress from her sleeping child. As more time passed, Belle began to stir, and Phoebe considered rousing her from her nap. But she stopped herself when she realized that her grumpy, exhausted daughter would rather endure a bad dream than be woken. So, disregarding her motherly instinct, she allowed her daughter to sleep, and continued working. Still, Phoebe couldn't help but wonder what Belle was dreaming about…

* * *

If you were to describe Annabelle Halliwell in only three words, there could be no better ones than strong, stubborn, and above all else, independent. However, Belle hadn't always been so independent and self-assured. As a matter of fact, these personality traits had only developed as a means of shirking her most hated role as the "baby" of the family.

When she was a child, being a "baby" never bothered her very much. On the contrary, Belle somewhat adored being the youngest Halliwell child, as well as the advantages that came with it. As the last baby, she had always been considered "special" and was pampered, not only by the adults in her life, but by her older sisters and cousins, too. Generally, the novelty of her age had acquired her most anything she'd ever really wanted, when she'd wanted it (not that she ever abused this fact).

For these reasons, Belle had grown accustomed to being coddled as a child, and consequently, became severely dependent upon the adults in her life. Until the age of five or six, she'd practically been conjoined to her mother at the hip, never leaving her side. So, you can understand why at the age of four, getting separated from her mother in a busy retail store had been one of the most traumatic incidents of her childhood. In fact, it had been so traumatic that at times, she still dreamt of the day it happened.

_It was just Belle and Mommy that day – no daddy, no big sisters or cousins, no aunts and uncles – just her and her most favorite person in the big, wide world. They'd spent the morning at the park, playing in the sand box building castles, swinging, sliding, and climbing the jungle gym. Today she'd climbed all the way to the tippy-top of the jungle gym, all by herself, probably one hundred-thousand feet in the air. She'd even climbed across the monkey bars to get to the other side, something she'd never been able to do before, because she was always so afraid of falling. But Daddy had showed her how to climb the other week, and today was the first day her mommy got to see. Mommy was so proud her baby had overcome her fear that she rewarded her young daughter with a happy meal._

_Now it was time for Belle and her mother to run errands. Errands had always been one of Belle's least favorite things to do, especially shopping. Shopping was so boring, and any time her sisters were there too, they would climb in the cart and make Belle walk the whole way. Then they'd play games together and talk in their secret language and tell their little sister she was too young to understand any of it. Sisters were such meanies sometimes. _

_Today, though, there were no big sisters around to exclude little Belle or tell her that she was "too young to understand". Today, she actually didn't mind shopping very much. Mommy had to pick up new shoes for Callie, which was pretty lame, but Belle was happy just to hold her mother's hand and skip through the store aisles. _

_Still, as Phoebe rifled through the many shoe boxes, trying to find a pair of dress shoes that might match Callie's favorite blue dress, Belle couldn't help but feel antsy. Little girls weren't meant to stand still and wait for a long time, and her mommy knew that. How could she possibly be expected to stand there waiting for her mommy to pick out a pair of shoes for her dumb sister?_

_"Moooom," Belle sighed, feeling so bored she was actually starting to get sleepy. "How much longer?" Phoebe patted her daughter's shoulder, not taking her eyes off the two pairs of shoes she was debating between. She was obviously pretty distracted. _

_"Not much longer, sweetie. After this you can pick out a gift for cousin Henry's birthday, okay?" Belle folded her arms across her chest. She didn't want to pick out a stupid boy gift for her cousin Henry. She really wanted to pick out a new doll for herself. In fact, she really just wanted to go look at the toys, and if she looked past the shoe aisle and the racks of clothes, she could see the dollies, waiting for her._

_She never really understood how it happened. It was so unlike her to wander away from her mommy, but she was tired and grumpy and bored, and the store was really crowded that day. The next thing she knew, she was standing alone in the toy aisle, Mommy nowhere in sight. Yet things didn't look as she remembered them…_

_The shelves were lined with many toys of all different colors. Some had lights and others had bells; some walked or talked, and others whizzed and spun. No matter what they did, they all looked so pretty and fun… still, Belle felt scared. The shelves were so packed and the aisle so narrow and everything just looked so very big. The racks seemed to lean in on the aisle, in on Belle, as though they might tip and crash. Quite suddenly, Annabelle didn't want to look at the toys anymore. She didn't want to be in this aisle or in this store. All she wanted was to find her mother._

_"Mommy," she first whispered, then shouted. "Mommy!"She ran out of the aisle and looked down the rows and rows of toys and clothes and other objects that seemed to stretch on for miles. The store was never so big before, and certainly never so empty. Belle jumped as a sudden clatter sounded behind her. A few toys had fallen from the shelves, hitting the floor in a roaring echo. She noticed that the shelves were starting to wobble, as though they might soon tumble. She stared on in wonder, waiting for the impending fall, until an odd chill ran through her body and an unusual gust of wind blew around her. That sudden wind was the final push that tipped the shelves too far. The moment they smashed to the floor, the store lights went dim._

_Now she was really scared. Belle called for her mother again, breaking into a run as quickly as her little legs would carry her. She yelled as loud and frantically as she could, yet she received no reply. There was no one in the store now, and she was all alone. Or so she thought._

_She ran on and on in a straight path, yet the shiny white floor tiles only seemed to stretch further beneath her feet. Finally she stopped, falling on to her bottom as she panted, regaining her breath. Tiny tears began to stream down her cheeks as she called out again and again for her mommy._

_"Where did you go," she whispered to herself. Abruptly, the lights cut out. This time completely. Unsure of what else to do, she screamed, and began to sob. She closed her eyes then with a shiver. _

_Suddenly, a soft voice rang out in the distance. "Annabelle," it called, "Annabelle." Though she strained to hear, she knew instantly it was her mother's voice. Her breath caught in her throat as the relief washed through her. She opened her eyes to find… she was back in the park again, for some reason. It was dark and her little mind felt so confused and upset, yet she didn't have time to wonder. _

_Belle ran in the direction of her mommy's voice, coming closer every second. She ran past the swing set, past the slide, and past the jungle gym. She ran into the scary part of the park - the part where the trees grew tall and dark, and she could hardly see. Mommy and Daddy never let her or her sisters wander into this part of the park alone. It was so easy to get lost here, or to fall and hurt yourself. But it was okay now – her mommy wanted her to be here. She wanted Belle to find her._

_She slowed to a walk as she ran out of breath, making her way forcefully through a thicket of trees. As she walked out of the underbrush she found herself in a clearing. Beside her was a dark, murky lake that she'd never seen before. In fact, she'd never even known it was there._

_Belle was feeling confused again. Her mommy should be here._

_"… Mommy?" Her voice echoed throughout the trees, and she noticed a rippling across the surface of the lake. _

_"I'm right here, baby. I'm in the water. Come for a swim." Belle shook her head. This didn't seem right. She didn't know how to swim yet, and her mommy knew that._

_"I… I can't swim."There was a long pause, and the shadows seemed to grow taller around her. "… Mommy? Are you there?" There was no reply, and she was growing frantic again. "Mommy?"A piercing scream sounded from the edge of the lake._

_"Annabelle, please! Help me!" She bolted to her mother's pleading voice, tears again streaming down her rosy cheeks. When she neared the edge of the lake, she noticed a dark figure floating in the water. As she got closer, she realized this figure was a woman, face down…_

_"Mommy!" Her mother's body floated right to the edge of the water, and she jumped in immediately. The black water came up to her chest as she tugged at her mother's clothes, pulling her body near. "Mommy, no!" She rolled over the body and her heart stopped. The shadows grew and the darkness towered above her. This wasn't her mother._

_The figure she saw before her was one more frightening than she'd ever seen before. It was a lady, she thought, with white hair and gray skin, like a ghost. Instead of a nose there were just thin slits, like on her cousin Chris' pet lizard. Her eyes, though closed, seemed very large, and her mouth… _

_Belle screamed just as the woman's eyes bolted open, revealing two deep black saucers. The girl was quite aware that those eyes… those evil eyes were looking inside of her. At first, she was paralyzed by her own fear; however, the shocking moment passed and Belle wrenched away from the woman._

_"No, no, no, Annabelle," the ghostly woman whispered, reaching out her long, flowing fingers. "I want you to come for a swim." Before Belle could get away, the woman's fingers wrapped around her arms, pulling her under the water. She was immediately engulfed in the blackness of the water, unable to see anything but those ghostly eyes. _

_Belle opened her mouth to scream, squirming hopelessly against the woman's grip. Her shriek was drowned in the choking black water that quickly filled her lungs. She couldn't breathe; she was so cold. She felt like she was dying…_

* * *

**I've never really written a cliffie before, so I hope you enjoyed that I decided to give it a try here XD**


	5. Chapter 5

**Lots of dreaming in this chapter... hope you like it! And, by the way, I want to thank everyone who has been reviewing so far. I appreciate all of your kind words very much!**

**Chapter 5:**

_Annabelle felt herself quickly succumbing to the cold embrace of the nightmarish lake. She felt the hands of the wicked specter enclosing tighter around her forearms, yet she felt not the pain of its unflinching grip. Only the sharp, choking sensation of the black water filling her lungs seemed to touch her senses. That and the impenetrable darkness of those ghoulish eyes, peering into her waning soul…_

"Belle… Annabelle," Phoebe said sternly, caressing her daughter's clammy cheek with a caring hand. The young teen had been moving about restlessly in her sleep for ten minutes, yet Phoebe had thought nothing of it. Belle had been prone to nightmares since she was a child, and at this age, preferred not to be fussed over for them. In any other situation, Phoebe would have left her daughter to come to on her own, as Belle, in her stubborn independence, demanded.

Yet as Belle's whimpering and uncomfortable grunting grew, until it ultimately coalesced into a rather painful choking, Phoebe could no longer ignore her child's fearful dreaming. After all, whimpering and agitated kicking were one thing, but choking? In all the nightmares Phoebe had ever seen her daughter endure, even the most violent had not produced such a physical reaction. Annabelle legitimately seemed as though she was having trouble breathing, which to Phoebe seemed completely unnatural.

"C'mon, wake up, honey. It's just a dream." She tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but Phoebe's motherly instincts had her concerned. She could see Belle's eyes twitching beneath her eyelids, trying so hard just to open… so why wouldn't they? She shook her daughter now, gently, yet still firmly enough to wake her.

_Braced against the chilling black waters, her body slackened. Her consciousness began to withdraw, little by little, yet at an alarmingly rapacious rate. Her eyes willed themselves to shut, her mind begged to break down and plummet to the depths of the lake. Yet there was a part of her so aware, so alive that it allowed her consciousness to remain intact, despite the weakness that ravaged her body._

_She felt quite suddenly as though a hand had breached the surface of the lake, and grabbed her from behind. Something, some force was pulling her from the ghoul's deathly grasp, pulling her to safety. The specter spoke to her, perhaps realizing that Belle was slipping through her wispy, cadaverous fingers._

"_Where are you going, Annabelle? Aren't we having fun?" Belle shook her head, hardly able to muster even that much movement. Her vision was becoming fuzzy, and her surroundings began to crumble about her. The edges of the black deep crawled away into feathery softness, and the ghostly fingers loosened their grasp. She continued to shake her head wildly, and the evil being smiled. "You'll get away this time, witch."The specter opened her mouth to release a cutting, malevolent howl of a laugh, the vile jubilance of which shook the young woman to the core._

_The last sight to meet her eyes before returning to her conscious world was that of those piercing black orbs the ghoul called eyes. She knew, upon that laugh, upon that wicked gaze, that this creature, whoever she may be, knew the deepest and darkest secrets of Belle's life. Every "bad" or "immoral" thing the girl had ever done, no matter how insignificant, this creature knew. This ghostly figure was the embodiment of any blackness, any sadness, fury, or hopelessness that had ever existed within her, even in the smallest of increments. Her skin was tainted by that malicious gaze. That black, villainous stare._

Annabelle finally came to, abruptly, with a shrill cry. For a few seconds she lay there, unable to move in the shock of her own emotions. She took in the sight of her mother's warm brown eyes, staring down upon her in concerned anticipation. She wanted to tell her that she was okay, that her mother need not worry, yet she couldn't. In any other situation where she'd awake from a nightmare to find her mother worrying over her, she'd feel immediate embarrassment. Yet in this situation, all she could feel was the wave of tears she momentarily fought so hard not to release. However, she found herself unable to contain the unbridled fear that had bubbled within her. All she could do now was sob helplessly into her mother's waiting arms.

Phoebe soothed her trembling daughter as her sisters entered the room.

"What's going on," Piper asked, instantly alert. She and Paige both seemed to be expecting a demon attack. Phoebe couldn't blame them for assuming this – the way Belle had screamed, you would _think_ she'd just encountered a demon. She was anxious to find out what it was that had unnerved Belle so terribly.

"She had a nightmare," Phoebe said, gently running a hand through her daughter's hair. Paige sat down in the chair next to the loveseat, and Piper remained standing, arms crossed across her chest. The elder Charmed One's shoulders relaxed considerably when she realized there had been no demon encounter, yet she still gazed upon her niece with concern.

"We thought… you know," Paige murmured, not wanting to say anything that might upset Belle further. The young teen had stopped sobbing now, though she kept her face buried in her mother's shoulder, unwilling to leave the safety she found there.

The three older women sat silently for a minute, allowing Belle time to calm down. As the last of her sniffles seemed to drift away, Phoebe pulled back from her daughter, wiping the dampness from her face with a loving hand.

"Are you alright," Phoebe asked softly, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind Belle's ear. Staring down at her hands, the girl nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She then looked up, glancing quickly at her aunts. "Sorry… if I worried you, I mean." Both Paige and Piper began shaking their heads.

"No, don't worry about it, kiddo. We're just glad everything's okay," Paige said, trying to be as calming to her niece as possible.

"What exactly were you dreaming about," Piper asked cautiously. Belle looked to her mother, who seemed to be wondering the same thing. In a lot ways, Belle didn't know how to explain what she'd experienced in her nightmare, and why it had affected her the way it did. However, the idea of divulging the things she'd seen also made her skin crawl. She'd never had a dream that had felt so real or distressing before.

"I'm not exactly sure… I was a little kid, and I was lost. I guess that's not that scary, but then, there was like… this ghost of a woman. She lured me out into the woods, to this lake where she tried to drown me. And _that…_ that I could feel. I felt like," the girl shivered quickly, recalling the terror of asphyxiation. "Like I really couldn't breathe." Phoebe's brow furrowed as she placed an arm around Belle's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"That makes sense. You really were choking, Belle."

"I was? I thought it was just the dream," Belle said, puzzled.

"That's unusual," Piper remarked, taking a seat on the couch.

"Yeah… it was. I had a hard time getting you to wake up too. I was talking to you and shaking you a little, but your eyes seemed as though they didn't want to open." Belle frowned as she remembered the way the specter had grasped her, pulling her under, clutching her with a haunting grip. She thought perhaps she should inform her mother of this fact, as well, but felt much better disregarding it completely. She'd always had nightmares – this time shouldn't be any different. Still, it had certainly _felt_ different.

"Well, it's over now. I'm… I'm fine," the young witch said, though she felt quite far from it.

* * *

It wasn't always easy to bear the name "Halliwell," a fact that seventeen year old Prudence knew very well. Her entire life had been encumbered by the weight of others' accomplishments, of the shining personalities of those she'd loved. She'd never much cared for material wealth or even petty, high school achievements such as prom queen or student council president. In a lot of ways, she couldn't even muster the motivation or care in academic over-achievement. She'd never wanted to be a star, or any sort of monetarily important person.

The only thing Prudence Halliwell had ever truly cared about was being loved.

Maybe it was the cupid in her, or perhaps it was simply the values she'd been raised upon; no matter the cause, Prue had always known there was nothing more important in this life than love, than adoration and compassion. She'd always received these things from her parents, sisters, cousins, aunt, and uncles. Still, she'd desired so much more than the familial love she'd been given. She wanted her peers to see her as being great, as being fun and happy and exciting. She wanted young men to think she was beautiful, worthwhile, and real. She wanted her teachers to believe she'd go somewhere in life. Quite simply, she wanted their love.

Of course, Prudence knew how unbecoming it could be for her to seem as needy and insecure as her innermost desires proved. Thus, she kept this need for love a secret. Maybe because… she sometimes suspected, it wasn't really love she desired. It was affirmation.

If other people loved her, she could easily grasp and realize her purpose in life. Without people telling her why they needed her, she didn't quite understand what she herself needed.

Because of these secret desires, Prue had grown very sensitive to rejection over the years. For her, there was nothing worse than being made to feel as though she wasn't good enough. There was nothing worse than being ignored.

_She'd never been let down very often. She'd never felt particularly unloved or unwanted, especially not by her family. Over the course of her seventeen years, she'd been sure to cultivate a personality that would ensure she'd never be ignored. _

_Yet some days, deep down, she'd wake with a nagging feeling that maybe people wanted to pretend she didn't exist. Maybe they were tired of her, didn't want her around. Maybe the loving had run out._

_These were Prue's_ worst_ days. _

_On the days when maybe she wasn't receiving as much attention as she would've liked, she couldn't help but wonder why. Usually, she acted pretty cool about it. She could never let anyone know she was insecure, after all. She'd make up reasons as to why the people around her were so preoccupied, reasons why they didn't greet her when she entered a room or didn't give her a passing glance in the hallways at school. In some childish, over-imaginative way, she sometimes wondered if maybe she'd died painlessly in her sleep, if she'd unknowingly faded into a ghostly existence her peers and loved ones could not see or hear. Maybe that was why…_

_She woke up one morning with the sun peeking in brightly through her blinds. The room was dark, unkempt, and her bed felt particularly cold. As her eyes opened, she noted that no outside noise had roused her. She contemplated why this was – it was a Thursday – her alarm should've sounded at 6:30 sharp. Yet the loud, obnoxious squawking of her alarm had not rang. Still, she'd woken at precisely 6:30, much to her own puzzlement. _

_Despite her curiosity, she rolled out of bed without another thought or even a single yawn. Usually, leaving her bed in the morning was a massive and seemingly insurmountable chore. Yet on this particular morning, she felt hardly a single pang of exhaustion. Perhaps today was going to be a good day – she surely hoped. _

_She went about her normal routine; however, much smoother than usual. Since she'd actually gotten out of bed at 6:30 instead of hitting snooze five times, she was able to make her way into the bathroom before either Callie or Belle had a chance. After showering, dressing, and so on, she made her way into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. As she sat down to eat, she heard her sisters milling about upstairs, fighting each other for bathroom time. No doubt her father was still in bed, waiting for her mother to ready herself before seeing her and his daughters off to their respective obligations. _

_Prue was nearly halfway through with her bowl of cereal when her mother walked into the kitchen, looking tired and frazzled. Phoebe headed immediately for the fridge, not glancing in her daughter's direction._

"_Morning, Mom," Prue said happily, feeling full and rested for the first time in… a long time. Yet, quite unusually, her mother did not respond to her morning greeting. Assuming Phoebe hadn't heard her, Prue repeated herself, louder this time. "Morning, Mom." Once again, Phoebe did not respond, or even acknowledge Prue's presence. She pulled the orange juice from the fridge and walked past her daughter. This bothered Prue. Had she done something wrong, something she didn't know about? Her grades were okay, her personal life in order, and she hadn't done anything illegal lately (other than a few parties). _

"_Uh," she stood. "Did I upset you or something?"She walked towards her mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. Phoebe was cold to the touch and Prue flinched. Her mother made no reaction whatsoever. This was wrong. "What's going on," she asked, her voice squeaking as her own discomfort and anxiety were riled. Phoebe turned in her direction, grabbing a glass from the cupboard, and Prue caught a good look at her mother's face: Phoebe's eyes were ringed with dark circles, her lips pursed in a discontented frown. She hadn't remembered her looking like this the night before. _

"_Shit. Piss. FUCK," Prue muttered, her voice wavering. "I have unprotected sex and shoot heroin in alleyways!" Now, if that didn't provoke a reaction in her mother, nothing would. _

_Still, Phoebe ignored her daughter, filling her cup with orange juice. She glanced back at the clock, right through Prue, and sighed in frustration. "Callie, Belle, c'mon! You're gonna be late!"Prue stood in utter shock, the thoughts piecing together in her head. Her mom did look bad… really bad, like she couldn't remember seeing her before. In fact, she looked like someone had died._

_Her father strode into the kitchen wearing his pajamas. His face was unshaven and his hair a wild mess, long overdue for a trim. "DAD," she yelled, as though he might hear or see what her mother did not. She knew that wouldn't be, however._

_After all, she had to be… dead? Was that it? She was a ghost? Frightened, agitated tears spilled over her eyelids, and her breathing quickened. "What happened," she choked through her tears, panic rising in her voice. "What happened?" She couldn't be dead. No, no, no, she couldn't. Because a death is something you remember, even if it's your own, right? Then again, she couldn't remember being born…_

_Callie and Belle walked sluggishly into the kitchen, both looking as tired and rumpled as their parents. "Hey!" She stood directly in her sisters' path as they neared the fridge. They walked right through her. The tears briefly ceased as the shock of the moment gripped her. _

_She was dead. She had to be. But… she couldn't be. She was seventeen. She was a virgin. She had a whole life to live. Or… she had. _

_Abysmal horror gripped her. Prudence Halliwell's life was over, it no longer belonged to her. Her aspirations would never come to fruition, and she'd never be the things she'd always most desired to be. She'd never find her true love and have the wedding of her dreams. She'd never have a career or children, or see her sisters find love and have children of their own. She'd never… live again._

_She was paralyzed by this realization, tears streaming down her face as she watched life go on around her… at least for the ones she loved._

_Her sisters sat down at the table with their father. Coop and Belle each chose to eat a piece of fruit, yet Callie merely sipped at a glass of milk. Phoebe sighed yet again, taking a seat at the table with the rest of her family. What a solemn bunch they were – it was a heart breaking sight for Prue. _

"_Callie," Phoebe said tiredly, sipping her orange juice. Her sister barely acknowledged their mother. "I don't really want to bring this up right now – I'm tired of saying it – but I hope that when I drop you off at school today that you actually _stay_ there."Callie stared down at her glass, her brow knitting together in a distressed manner. Her mother's voice had been so cold… so void of emotion. _

"_You shouldn't have to be telling her again," Coop said, glaring at Callie. Prue was so confused. Her family's actions were completely out of character. Her compassionate mother was cold; her soft, sweet father was callous; her strait-laced, well-mannered sister was skipping school; and her brash, outspoken baby sister was sitting there completely silent. It was all wrong. _

_There was a tense silence before Phoebe asked, "So, what are you going to do?"_

_Callie shrugged and quietly replied, "I don't know."_

"_You don't know," Coop said, his voice rising in anger. _

_Belle trembled visibly and spat at her sister, "Just fucking _listen_, Callie." Callie whipped around suddenly and scowled at her sister._

"_Shut the Hell up."_

"_No, I think you need to shut up, Callie. Your behavior is absolutely ridiculous, and I'm tired of it-"Callie stood up instantly, knocking over her chair. She refused to let her father finish._

"_Ridiculous? You think the way I've been acting is ridiculous?"_

"_Yes," Phoebe said, completely exasperated. _

"_Well, I'm sorry," Callie yelled, "that I refuse to go on living my life normally while Prue is rotting in the ground!"Prue felt as though all the air had been knocked out of her. This was the first time any one of them had acknowledged her existence. Unfortunately, that acknowledgement had confirmed her as a rotting corpse. _

_All was silent until Phoebe burst into tears, Belle laying her head silently on the table beside her. Coop stood, his face reddening in utter fury and sadness. However, before his outburst could come to fruition, Callie bolted from the room, walking straight through her dead sister and out the front door. _

_Prue couldn't allow herself to watch as her parents and youngest sister broke down before her. She too ran from the room, into what should've been the dining room. Yet as she left the kitchen, the room transformed, and she had no idea where she was. She turned around, as though she might return to the kitchen, yet the archway had disappeared, and she now stood in the middle of a dark chamber._

_As she contemplated her dim surroundings with fear, sadness, and a tear-stained face, a large spotlight clicked on audibly overhead. The sound echoed through the room as the light shone down on a figure that lay in a twisted huddle upon the concrete floor. Without thought, she neared this figure, this body, and to her surprise and terror… realized the figure was she. _

_Prue fell to her knees before her own lifeless body, the shock overwhelming her. Her flesh was hard and cold, almost waxy to the touch. Her eyes were closed and creased, her mouth fixed in an impassive and emotionless expression. She reached forward to grab her own hand, allowing her fingers to linger atop the rigid, dead skin. _

_She was terribly startled when she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder. She turned around immediately, for some reason expecting to see Callie standing behind her. Yet what she truly saw was completely dreadful. _

_Wispy, ghost-like hands curled about her shoulder blade, dwelling upon her skin in a frightful and invasive manner. This too had to be a ghost, though not at all like herself. This person, being… whatever it was, had snowy white hair and graying, leathery skin that was pulled taut over her emaciated frame. The being's mouth appeared to be sewn shut, its small nostrils flaring, and its eyes… they were like endless pits of darkness. Those eyes were, perhaps, a physical embodiment of what her own death felt like. _

"_Wh-who are you?" The ghostly being smiled._

"_I am a friend, Prudence. A friend." Prue stood immediately as the ghost's thin, eerie voice echoed around her. This being was no friend._

"_No, you're not."_

"_I am, Prudence. I insist upon it." The ghost caressed Prue's back, settling her flowing appendages upon the girl's arm. "And I've come here to help you move on."_

"_Move on? Where?" Prue was becoming frantic now, as her skin crawled around the specter's touch. Yet the ghost only drew closer._

"_Death's comforting embrace will take you from this Earthly pain, Prudence. It will relieve you from this burden, from the weight of your loved ones' grief. I will take you away." Prue's breath caught in her throat as the being neared. For a moment she was paralyzed in fear, but suddenly came to her wits and jerked free of the spectral grasp._

"_No!" Wrenching free, she tumbled backwards and tripped over her own crumpled form. She began a slow descent towards the ground then, her eyes remaining fixed the entire time on the ghostly creature's gaze._

Prue came to in a cold sweat, before her dream body had been allowed the chance to hit the ground. Her breathing was ragged and quick, and she had to bite back the intense urge to cry. She rarely ever had nightmares, and when she did, they were never like _that_. They were never so real.

Yet she knew something was terribly wrong; something about the ghostly being that had haunted her was terribly wrong. Though she knew not what it was, she had a feeling who might be able to sympathize with her.

Without another thought, the frightened Prudence sprang from her bed and ran towards her youngest sister's bedroom.

* * *

Few things could truly frighten Junior. He might only be sixteen, but he was a man, and a _strong_ man, at that. He'd always felt he took after both his parents in that way. Clearly, his father, Henry Sr., a tall and muscular man who after many years remained a faithful and stern parole officer, was no doubt known for his strength. But in a less physical sense, his mother was incredibly strong, as well. Her mental and emotional fortitude had always impressed Junior, as they had never wavered in the face of an intense battle. She was composed, passionate, and when it came to her children, she couldn't be crossed. Or rather, she _shouldn't_ be.

Henry Junior had inherited his father's brawny physical stature (as well as his rugged good looks, though Junior _tried_ not to flaunt this fact) and his mother's unrelenting passion. He had a powerful and intimidating personality, yet he was kind and lighthearted, at times even impetuous. He liked to have a good time, and decidedly took life in stride, living in the moment. Still, despite his blithe disposition, there was one thing that could seriously unnerve Junior's calm and cheery composure.

_No one_ could ever hurt the ones that he loved. No one could even threaten such a thing on Junior, for the very thought of his family or friends in pain infuriated him. He supposed that was the thing that bothered him most about demons: they were a constant threat to his family. He would never admit it, but in the five weeks since he, his sisters, and cousins had received their prophecy, he'd already lost sleep. He simply couldn't stand the thought of something happening to his family.

That was one of the things that _truly_ frightened him, above all else.

_They'd been under attack for months now, constantly dodging demons and warlocks and any other evil entity you could think of. Junior's carefree teenage life had been replaced with a string of fearful engagements and sleepless nights. There was no time for sports, girls, friends – all the things outside his family and Wiccan heritage that he loved most. Now there was only time for fighting._

_He knew that one day, however, the fighting would end, and he was becoming increasingly worried that the ending would be unfavorable. He and his sisters and cousins were all so overwhelmed, and his parents, aunts, and uncles could only offer so much help. It seemed they'd never be able to adeptly juggle the obligations of a personal life and saving the world. Junior hated this constant struggle._

_He was happy, however, to have drifted off into a deep and restful sleep for the first time in over a week. In previous days, the Source had proved his intelligence and ingenuity by concocting a web of demonic offense so strong that not even the Charmed ones could unravel it in time. It almost seemed as though every vanquish they achieved would only set them back further when the next surprise attack swept the rug out from under their feet. Yet, despite the days and nights of stress spent pouring over books, potions, and vanquishes, leaving little time for sleep, exhaustion eventually overwhelmed them all. _

_Tonight belonged to Junior – a night of recuperation – or so he had thought._

"_Henry… Henry… wake up." He could feel himself being shaken, roused from slumber, though opening his eyes proved such a strenuous task. His mouth opened first to groan and protest the inevitable consciousness. Unfortunately, he could not resist waking once it had been thrust upon him by an outside force._

"_Huh," he mumbled, finding the words that fell from his mouth were sluggish and incoherent._

"_Wake up, bud. We need you right now." Hearing the urgency in what he finally registered as his mother's voice, his eyes shot open and he bolted into a sitting position._

"_What, what do you need?" Half-consciousness had amplified his panic, shocking his senses. Paige placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. _

"_Chris and Wyatt found a lead while they were patrolling the underworld. We know where the next string of attacks is going to be." Junior rubbed the sleep from his eyes, almost feeling unconvinced._

"_Wait… how do they know for sure?"_

"_They bribed a seer," Paige replied confidently._

"_With what? Its own life?" His mother nodded, and Junior couldn't help but smile just a little bit. "Well, it could still be a trap, couldn't it? Or false information."_

"_Either way, we're going to be killing some of the Source's demons." Paige grinned then. "Besides, your cousins didn't exactly follow through on their bribe, so there's no way the seer could report back to his superior." Junior could only shake his head. He was all for vanquishing demons, usually in the most painful way possible. Yet when a confrontation involved his family, he had to exercise caution. "We're going, Henry – all of us. We'll head down in pairs and take out the targeted demons one at a time."_

"_You found them already?"_

"_You've been asleep for a long time." Junior took pause, evaluating his mother's face, posture, and voice. Something seemed unusual about this situation. Their plan didn't seem very well-thought out – he couldn't be the only one to realize this, and furthermore, be concerned about it. "I'm asking you to come with me," Paige said, this time with an edge to her voice. "Whether or not you join me, I'm going. Would you rather I'm all alone down there?"_

"_No, of course not," he snapped, taken off guard by his mother's aggravation. "I'll get ready, right away."_

"_Good," she replied. "We're going to take care of this." After Paige exited the room, Henry jumped out of bed and put on a shirt and a pair of jeans. He didn't want to waste time, though he wasn't about to fight demons in his boxers either. He quickly laced up his sneakers, grabbed a sweatshirt, and ran out his bedroom door. _

_He immediately stopped short when, instead of finding himself in the upstairs hallway of his house, he was standing beside his mother in a dimly lit cavern. Though this jump in time was quite unusual, he knew he didn't have time to question it._

"_Take these," his mother whispered, handing him two potion vials. Glancing at her, his face clearly perplexed, she smiled. _

"_How many demons are we vanquishing," he asked, brushing aside his confusion._

"_Two. I made extra potions though… just in case anything gets in our way."_

"_Okay…"_

"_Are you ready for this? You seem kind of… out of it." He shook his head, realizing how silly he was being. They had a job to do, he was tired – it was only natural things might be a little fuzzy along the way. Sure, their plan wasn't exactly airtight, but with his mother by his side, nothing should go wrong. The rest of his family, though staking out different areas of the underworld themselves, was only an orb away. Everything would be okay._

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this." Paige gave her son's hand a confident squeeze before nodding in the direction of the cavern ahead. _

"_They should be anywhere from 150 to 200 yards up that way. Stay quiet, and let me lead, okay?" Junior nodded. He didn't necessarily like the idea of following behind his mother, but in a situation such as this, he was also in no place to disagree. They walked ahead as quietly as possible through the cavern. As Paige had said, not 200 yards ahead she stopped, hearing voices. She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him back against the cavern wall. _

"_I hear more than two voices in there… three, maybe four," Junior whispered._

"_Doesn't matter. We've got enough potions, and if those fail, we've still got our powers. So listen, here's the plan," His mother spoke quickly, yet still quietly. The demons, so near their own deaths, were none the wiser. "We jump in without a sound and throw the potions. If we're quick enough, they won't have time to dodge. However, if they do, orb defensively and blast them. Got it?"_

"_Got it."_

"_Alright," she said, turning to the mouth of the cave and keeping her hand tightly around Junior's. "Five, four, three, two, one." Mother and son sprang forward into the cave opening, letting their vanquishing potions fly with as much accuracy as possible. Indeed, there were three demons chatting ignorantly inside the cave as the witches initiated their assault. The two demons that had been standing with their backs to the entrance were hit precisely with the potions, and vanquished immediately. The third demon, on the other hand, dodged the potion and shimmered out before Junior and Paige had a chance finish the job. _

"_Damn," Junior said, frustration quickly boiling in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was to be running after another meaningless demon._

"_Hey," Paige said, placing her hands on Junior's shoulders. "We got two of them."_

"_Yeah, but were they the two we needed to vanquish?"_

"_I think so," she shrugged. Junior sighed, feeling completely irritated._

"_Yeah, but you don't _know, _Mom. And just to be sure we're going to have go back to the manor, check the book, and-"_

"_Henry," Paige yelled, pushing her son to the ground. While the two were talking, they'd made the same mistake as the demons they'd vanquished only a minute before. In many ways, it was terribly ironic. For as they were distracted, the escapee demon and a black-hooded companion shimmered into the cave entrance, preparing for a surprise assault._

_As Junior hit the ground, he watched his mother take the fireball that was meant for his back. The young man was in utter shock as Paige flew back into the cave wall, not even attempting to defend herself. Why hadn't she orbed? Why hadn't she attempted to jump out of the way or deflect the fireball? Why was this happening?_

"_Mom!" Without thought, Junior emitted a bright green jet of energy from his eyes, much to the surprise of the demon they'd failed to vanquish before. The blast of energy sailed directly towards her face, turning her to ash in a split second. Before he had time to turn his fatal glare upon the black-hooded demon, it had shimmered from the cavern. "Damnit!" _

_Junior ran to his mother's side, immediately taking her unconscious form in his arms. "Peyton! Chris! Wyatt!" The young man couldn't yet heal, and relied on any one of his whitelighter family members to come to Paige's rescue. However, no one arrived. "C'mon! Peyton, Mom needs you! Chris, Wyatt… Please!" Every second he waited for a reply felt like an eternity… he was sure it had to have felt longer for his mother, if she could feel anything at all right now. "Please, she's dying!" Junior looked down upon his mother's face, noting the slight rise and fall of her chest. There was no way he could allow her to die in his arms._

"_Mom… Mom." He lightly tapped at his mother's pale cheeks, attempting to rouse her into consciousness. However, it became blatantly clear to him that she would not come to. Her breathing was now fainter, as was her pulse. He pressed his lips to her cold forehead, a tear dripping upon her skin. He almost never cried. "Just hang in there… someone will come…"_

"_Peyton! Mom is _dying_! Please get down here! Anyone – please help her!" He pounded a white-knuckled fist into the cave floor, hardly able to contain his anger and complete horror as he felt his mother slipping away. "Why is no one coming," he asked himself._

"_Because they are gone." Junior whipped around to see a grotesque demon standing at the mouth of the cave. She was ghostly gray, emaciated, and her facial features appeared completely alien. Taking in the sight of the demon's wispy, tendril-like fingers, and malicious obsidian eyes, he hugged his mother against his chest._

"_Gone? She's not-" Junior pressed his palm against his mother's now unmoving chest, struggling to feel even the slightest rhythm that would indicate a heartbeat or breathing. "M-Mom…" He cradled her cheek with his hand, his mouth hanging open in terrible shock. The pain tore through him as his eyes burned with tears. How could she be gone? How could his mother – the strongest woman he knew – the woman who had loved him and his sisters with all of her heart – how could she be dead?_

"_This can't be," he said, trying to convince himself that, no, it couldn't possibly be true. But she _was_ dead, and the proof was pressed limply against his aching heart. There was no reason why his should be beating instead of hers. That fireball was meant for _him.

"_It is the truth, Henry. Your mother has passed. So have your sisters. They all have." _

"_All… all of them," he gasped, choking on his own helpless sob. The demon glided towards him, and though he did not move, for he felt he could not, he pulled Paige closer to himself, as though there were something left to protect. "No…" The ghostly woman crouched at his side, placing a wispy hand upon his cheek, He flinched, though still felt too paralyzed to tear himself away from her vapid touch._

"_Yes, Henry, yes. Such is the Charmed destiny." He shook his head like a hopeless child, the tears streaming down his face is thick torrents. "But please, do not fret. You will be with them soon enough." Junior rested his head against his mother's, still shaking in disbelief of the demon's words. Though he did not realize it, she had reached down with a wispy hand and grasped a shard of the broken potion vial that lay scattered around them. "And when you _do_ see them next, please send them a message." Henry looked up in confusion, just in time for the ghostly demon to slash his cheek with the shard of glass. He cried out in pain, gritting his teeth. As the fury exploded inside of him, he opened his eyes wide to blast the demon to death._

Junior awoke abruptly, his jaw still clenched tightly. Immediately, his fingers reached for his stinging cheek, which, much to his surprise, was dripping a warm, crimson liquid.

* * *

**Please review! I hope to have the next chapter up soon...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope you enjoy this chapter... and I also hope to get some more reviews on this. I have chapter 7 planned out almost entirely, but beyond that, I want you to tell me what YOU would like to see. After all, aside from my own enjoyment, I'm writing this for your entertainment, so give me opinions, ideas, and criticisms. Tell me what you'd like to see happen after this, and I will deliver! So please review!**

**Chapter 6:  
**"Well," Wyatt sighed tiredly, shutting the Book of Shadows, "It doesn't appear that this 'demon' of ours is anywhere in the book." Just about every member of the young man's family had gathered in the living room of Halliwell Manor to discuss their first major demonic encounter. Most everyone, except for the adults, surprisingly, were either chugging coffee in mass quantities, or pacing the floor in a completely wired state. If not, then they were half-conscious on a couch, chair, or in Melinda's case, the floor.

The previous night every member of the second generation Charmed Ones had experienced a nightmare. Though the premise of each shocking dream had been different, they had each involved an appearance from a certain horrifyingly grotesque woman who they assumed to be a demon. For most of the kids, their nightmares had ended in a cold sweat, jitters, or tears – the usual reaction to an exceedingly frightful experience. However, for a few, the nightmare had ended in bodily injury. Hence Wyatt's conclusion that what they were dealing with was more than likely one of the Source's lackeys.

"You're certain," Piper asked, walking towards her son to double check the book.

"Maybe you just… missed her," Phoebe said, joining her big sister. Chris sighed, placing a hand on the book before either his mother or aunt had a chance to begin their fruitless search.

"Look, I know we may be 'amateurs,' but we understand how to conduct a thorough search in the Book of Shadows." Piper and Phoebe backed away from the book immediately, feeling slightly ashamed. They knew their children were completely capable of locating and even vanquishing a demon. However, they were so much more experienced, and so much more protective. It was only natural that they felt the compulsive need to swoop in and find the answers for their children, even if it meant offhandedly undermining their abilities.

"Seriously," Prue said, her patience clearly worn thin before she'd even stepped foot in the Manor that morning, "If you'd actually _seen_ her with your own eyes, or interacted with her, there's no way you could mistake her appearance." The rest of the teens agreed, giving a nod and perhaps an uncontrollable yawn, as well. None of them had slept very much that night.

"We definitely believe you," Paige added, seated between her twins. "And don't for a second think we doubt that you can handle this. It's just… well, you know, this is like your first _serious_ demon… debacle." Pandora snorted beside her mother, resting her head in her hands. "What?"

"I don't know," Pandora mumbled wearily. "Apparently the word 'debacle' is just funny when I'm extremely tired." Paige ran a hand through her daughter's hair. Despite the fear and grating surprise her children, as well as her nieces and nephews had experienced the prior night, they all seemed to be taking it rather well. Aside from the exhaustion and unavoidable stress, they somehow had even managed to maintain a sense of humor (which, she supposed, was especially easy for her twins).

"You know, I'm still not entirely convinced that we're dealing with a demon," Chris said, always skeptical and overly-critical.

"Of course not," Melinda said sarcastically as she lay sprawled out across the living room floor. "It's far more likely to be an uncanny coincidence that we all experienced nightmares involving the same hideous _demon-esque _creature."

"Yeah, you're probably right, Mel," Pandora added, seizing the chance to poke fun at her cousin Chris. "I'm also sure it was total happenstance that some of us happened to wake up bearing injuries that duplicated those we acquired in said nightmares." Chris sighed as he took a seat at the dining room table, his irritation seeping through.

"I know it wasn't a _coincidence_. And by the way, I don't appreciate your sass."

"My 'sass'? What are you, a geezer," Melinda asked with a laugh.

"Do we have to put you all in time out," Leo asked, half amused and half annoyed. If these kids were going to accomplish anything they needed to cooperate with each other.

"Does it really matter what we're dealing with," Junior asked nonchalantly. "No matter what, we're going to figure out what it is and vanquish her, demon or not."

"Very true," Wyatt said, standing up and pulling his little brother along with him. "So I suggest, since there's no record of her in the book, we head to magic school and do a bit of research. She has to be on record somewhere."

"Good idea," Leo said, "Even if you can't find the exact demon, you're sure to find something close. I'll help, if you'd like?"

"Sounds good, Dad. In fact, the more people we have hitting the books, the better. Who wants to come with?" Much to Wyatt's surprise, Junior was one of the first to raise his hand, as well as Callie, and Belle (who was probably just happy to be included, even in the most boring of tasks).

"Alright then, let's get to it," Chris said determinedly. "The rest of you… just try not to fall asleep until we figure out who she is and how we can vanquish her."

"Aye aye, Captain," Peyton said, giving her cousin a sleepy, punch-drunk response. Chris rolled his eyes as they orbed from the room, and Paige turned to her daughter curiously.

"You seem a little out of it there, Peyt. Exactly how long have you been awake for," Paige asked suspiciously, knowing quite well how much of an insomniac her daughter was. As of late it was becoming quite a pesky little issue, and she made a mental note that after this little nightmare fiasco passed, she'd have to call the doctor.

"Oh, I don't know… 24 hours. Give or take an hour. Or five."

"Mostly give, right," Pandora asked with a grin.

"You betcha, sis. But no worries. As long as Aunt Pipe keeps pumpin' me full of coffee, I should be solid for another ten hours or so."

"I'll take that as my cue to freshen up your mug, right?"

"You're a doll," Peyton said, giving her aunt an over dramatic wink. With a grin and a sigh, Phoebe slumped into the loveseat next to her daughter.

"Well, Paigey, looks like we've got a house full of snarky, sarcastic, over-tired teens on our hands today. Should be a blast, eh?" Paige let out a tired groan as the girls laughed mischievously.

"God, I hope they find that demon soon."

* * *

Peyton sighed, ascending the Manor stairs towards her cousin Melinda's room. Thus far, the day had proved itself to be a complete and utter drone, leaving her with little to do. Upon the request of her mother and aunts, she, her sister, and remaining cousins had been asked to spend their day at the manor, sticking near each other. Meanwhile, her little brother, other cousins, and Uncle Leo were still at Magic School, searching for their mystery demon.

Presently, her Aunt Piper shuffled about the kitchen, preparing a lunch that smelled rather delightful, while her father and Uncle Coop sat at the table discussing sports. Her mother and twin, as well as her Aunt Phoebe and cousin Prue were engaged in a small movie marathon, now watching _The Wizard of Oz._ For nearly half an hour, Peyton had endured the film, but eventually grew tired of it. Quite frankly, she'd never liked _The Wizard of Oz_, and knowing her mother would be crying like a baby by the end, decided to bail before she began shooting off derisive and disruptive commentary.

Finally, Peyton decided to bug her cousin Melinda, who had retired to her room to work on an English paper that she herself probably should've been working on. Though she knew she'd find her cousin working diligently, she hoped to distract her, at least for a little while.

The door to Melinda's room was open and Peyton casually ambled in without a knock. As expected, Mel was sitting cross legged on her bed, papers and books splayed out before her as she typed fervently on her laptop. Peyton realized that there wasn't much room remaining on Mel's bed for her to sit, but as usual, she carelessly _made_ room, much to her cousin's mild annoyance.

"Hey," Peyton exhaled in a loud and attention-seeking sigh. Melinda typed a few more sentences before turning around to acknowledge her cousin's presence.

"Hey." It was clear to Peyton that Mel was looking for peace and privacy to complete her paper. As much as Melinda liked to pretend that she didn't care about school, her attentiveness and devotion to homework always proved otherwise. Peyton, on the other hand, despite her honor worthy grades, honestly did not care, and made a point to do as little work as possible while managing to receive exemplary grades.

"I'm assuming that would be Mrs. Kelly's 6-8 page analysis on modernist poetry you're working on." Melinda nodded laconically, turning back to her laptop.

"How did you know," she asked dryly.

"Well, the library book sitting on your bed titled _The Structure of Modernist Poetry_ kind of tipped me off."

"What an astute observation, Peyt…" Peyton leaned back on Mel's pillows, rolling her eyes. Her mass boredom was beginning to wear on her, to the point where either she would succumb to her own repressed exhaustion or total aggravation. She didn't want to act like a bitch, but she certainly preferred it to the alternative – murderous nightmares.

"Listen, I know I'm distracting you, and you're probably all annoyed and whatever, but throw me a bone, Mel. Its noon on a Sunday and we're stuck inside the Manor for captive family bonding." Melinda snorted upon that comment. "See, I'm so funny – ha ha. I know you'd much rather hang out with me than work on that lame paper." Mel shook her head apologetically.

"I know you're bored, Peyt. But I've gotta get this done. You probably should too. I bet you haven't even started it yet," she added knowingly.

"Well… no, I haven't. When's it due?"

"Tuesday." Peyton waved her hand, feeling unconcerned.

"Exactly, its due _Tuesday._ Tuesday papers are meant to be written at eleven o' clock on Monday nights, duh." Melinda stared at her cousin with a hint of admiration. Admittedly, she _wanted_ to ditch her paper and hang out with Peyton who was, after all, one of her very best friends, along with her other cousins. As well, she was tired and stressed and knew that a dose of Peyton's sarcastic and sometimes neurotic humor was just what she needed to take the edge off. Unfortunately, unlike her cousins, Melinda was too scholarly to blow off a paper.

"I hate to disappoint, but I really do want to finish this. I'm on a roll now and if I keep at it, I should be able to finish in about an hour and a half."

"An hour and a half?"

"Yes," Melinda replied, rolling her eyes with a smile. "In the meantime, why don't you orb home and get your guitar or something. That'll at least pass the time and keep you occupied so you don't fall asleep."

"Oh, _please. _I am not going to fall asleep."

"Well then," Melinda shrugged, "you're welcome to lie on my bed staring at the ceiling until I finish if you want. As long as you're quiet." Peyton ran her hands through her hair in mock frustration, and Mel smiled.

"I won't be quiet."

"Then you're gonna have to find something else to do…"

"Fine… I'll orb home and get my stupid guitar," she whined playfully. "But in an hour and a half, we've got a date. Be there or be square, Melly McSmelly." Melinda laughed at her cousin's pseudo petulance as she orbed out.

Twenty minutes later, Peyton sat with her back to the attic wall, picking mindlessly at her guitar strings. Though she would've much preferred the company of her cousin, or for that matter, a film that didn't involve creepy flying monkeys, she felt contentedly at peace with only her guitar and silent thoughts. Peyton had always flourished most in the company of music; however, with the warm, pleasant sun beating down on her through the window, as well, she felt completely calmed. In fact, she felt calm to a dangerous fault.

Since childhood, music had seemingly been ingrained in the fibers of her being, and the motions of playing were now instinctual. Her left hand moved up and down the neck of the guitar unconsciously, and her right hand followed with effortless picking. The melody was thoroughly sweet, allowing her mind to drift to other areas of thought. However, her calmed state left her unaware to the fact that the music was merely lulling her, and her mind drifted towards unconsciousness.

Her hands slowed their movements and her eyelids began to droop heavily. Rather quickly, Peyton began to slip off into sleep, and though her demeanor was plastered with contentment as she did, she was unconsciously nearing horror.

_She stood nervously at the window, staring out into the pitch black night that seemed to sprawl endlessly into the horizon. Pressing her fingers to the cold glass, she shivered, awaiting his arrival. Earlier that evening she'd called him, asked him to meet her, and succinctly explained that they needed to talk. When he'd asked her if something was wrong, she couldn't manage to lie to him and say no. Instead, she'd merely replied, "We'll talk later." _

_Allowing her eyes to close for a moment, she sighed. She knew what she had to say to him – her mortal love – though she still wasn't entirely sure what it meant. There was a nagging possibility that their discussion would end with him storming dejectedly from her door while she remained stationary at the window, remorseful and broken-hearted. However, there was a chance he would respond to her worries with grave understanding, and embrace her burdens. In that case, could she allow him to do so? Could she allow him to risk his life just to be with her?_

"_Peyton," he said hesitantly, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She was surprised, not having heard him enter the room. Before turning to face him, she caught his reflection in the window. His soft lips were framed in anxiety, and behind his glasses, she could clearly discern his devotion to her, as well as his reluctance. _

"_Hi, Russ," she said quietly, not allowing her voice to waver. She forced a smile and leaned forward to kiss him, a gesture he graciously accepted. "Can we sit?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, of course," he said nervously, running a hand through his curly, black hair. She took his hand and led him to the couch, where she was sure to sit as close to him as possible. He cleared his throat in anticipation, and she feared what she was about to tell him – her first love, her best friend, the boy who had held her heart for so long. Out of care for his nerves, she decided it would be best to be direct._

"_I know that the whole… 'Can we talk' thing is pretty unnerving. I'm sure that brought a lot of scary assumptions to mind." Russell chuckled uneasily, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. She'd recognized this behavior long ago as a serious nervous habit of his, to which she now frowned. Gripped by a sudden urge, she took his hands in her own. "First off, I just want you to know that I love you very much." He smiled sadly, shaking his head as if he'd received the kiss of death. "Russ, look at me." He glanced up, the anxiety tearing through his eyes. "I can imagine how this must sound, and no, this is not me breaking up with you. Or even saying that I _want_ to break up with you." She turned away, her voice threatening to break in fear of losing their relationship._

"_Then what is it? What do you need to talk to me about?"_

"_I need to talk to you about the fact that I'm dangerous," she replied tersely, suddenly feeling quite disgusted with herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Sorry…"_

"_Peyt, what are you talking about? I know you've got… powers and all that, but you're not dangerous. Especially not to me. You're good – a good witch." _

"_Yeah, that's just the problem. I come from the most powerful family of good witches there's ever been, I've explained that before. And unfortunately, it's put me in a lot of really dangerous situations lately."_

"_I… I know." As her frown intensified, he appeared to become confused._

"_But you don't, Russ. You don't know the half of it, honestly. There's a lot I haven't told you…"_

"_Like what," he asked, the anxiety creeping back full force._

"_Like all the times I or a member of my family have been an inch away from death." His face glazed over with apparent fear at the thought of her near death. This was the exact reason she'd hidden those dire details from him in the first place. "Being that close to death isn't fun. In fact, it's completely excruciating. And as much as the magic is to blame for putting us in those situations, it is also the reason we survived, and…" She trailed off, needing to take a breath._

"_What is it?"_

"_Something terrible is coming for my family, Russ. And as far as I'm concerned… you'll never truly be safe with me, no matter how much we may protect you." Silence filled the space between them for a minute as he considered her fears._

"_So what are you trying to tell me? That we can't be together?" She sighed heavily, fighting the urge to cry._

"_No. I'm saying that I love you a very painful amount, and the thought of something happening to you terrifies me. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be with me." His face contorted painfully, as did hers. "But at the same time, I am a selfish person, and I never want you to leave me, regardless of the danger." A tear slid silently down her cheek. "In the end though, the decision is all yours. I just needed you to understand the gravity of our circumstances. Things… things will never be easy for me, Russ. And they definitely won't be normal, either." He was silent for a long moment, and she feared he would walk out._

"_You know, maybe I'm naïve or something, but… I don't know. The longer I'm with you, the more I feel that I need to be. That we're _supposed_ to be together. As in, I belong to you, and you belong to me."Her breath caught in her throat for a moment while he chose his words. "Face it, babe: you're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. I might be risking a lot – probably too much for my age – but… I don't care. I love you, Peyton. I may not have powers or even understand this magic stuff, but I'll always make up for it by caring for you." _

_Relief washed over her and the tears spilled as she kissed him passionately. "I love you too," she breathed into his neck, completely overcome with her elation. She hugged him then, squeezing him as close to her body as she could, as if to mesh their skin. "I will _always_ protect you from them," she whispered. _

"_But can you protect him from yourself?" Her body went rigid at the sound of the hollow, disjointed voice that had suddenly drifted into the room. Pulling back slowly from their embrace, his face had gone deadpan and was peeled over with looming darkness. Shadows hugged the room, and a sudden fear tore through her, so unlike that which she'd experienced only moments prior. She placed her hands snug against his cheeks, willing him to make some sort of reaction, to show he was alright. _

"_Russ," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Russell, did you say something?" His mouth gaped open slightly, and he stuttered, as if he were too anguished to produce words. "Russell," she pressed, shaking him slightly._

"_You _are_ dangerous, Peyton," the amorphous voice insisted, and she realized it couldn't possibly have come from him. "And as hard as you try, you cannot protect him from that."_

"_N-no," she muttered, her hands suddenly blistering with intense heat. She cried out, unsuccessfully attempting to tear her burning hands away from Russell's cheeks. _

"_P-P-Peyton," he sputtered as his face twisted in serious pain. As hard as she tried to wrench herself away, it felt as though her hands were fixed upon his skin. "You're… you're burning me." Her hands burned on, the heat rising in her body. As much as the pain wracked her, she was far more affected by the sight of Russell's scorching flesh. Black marks singed across his face like a web of smoldering vines. His breathing became labored and every inch of his body began to burn, just from that one simple touch, still unable to move._

"_I'm sorry," she replied, tears frantically forming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry… I can't move."_

"_You're burning me!" His voice echoed through the room as she stared in utter horror at the sight before her. Rapidly, his flesh began to disintegrate around her hands into a flurry of ash. He cried out in agony one last time as the remains of his face fell into her lap in a cloud of dust. As the last echoes of his cries rang in her ears, the final vestige of his scorched body crumbled into a pile of ash. _

_Peyton sat completely still, completely silent as the revulsion gripped her. Her hands bubbled in pain, yet she was too shocked to register it. Suddenly, she felt the breath of another being slipping down her spine. She whipped around suddenly, expecting to see Russell, as if he hadn't just died – withered away at her touch. _

_What the young, horrified witch saw was the face of the demon she'd yet to meet. As her siblings and cousins had described, the demon had pale, sallow skin and an emaciated frame. Her flowing, spectral fingers stroked Peyton's back, and the girl quivered. Staring into the demon's abysmal, black eyes, she'd never felt so shocked in her life._

_In her mind, she knew then she was dreaming, she knew what had just happened was an illusion. Nonetheless, the fear and pain was as real as any she'd ever felt before. "What happened," she whispered, as the ghostly demon grinned. _

"_You couldn't protect him, Peyton. From your powers." She shook her head, the tears flowing once again. Briefly, she caught a whiff of smoldering flesh and realized it was her own. "You needed to understand, child, that magic is a curse. Your powers will only bring you pain." The demon's gaze slid down onto Peyton's hands, and her grin intensified. "_Excruciating_ pain." _

_Peyton gasped as her hands began to burn once again, stricken with a worse pain than she'd ever felt before. She lifted her hands in front of her face as the rest of her body shook violently. The sight of her own skin blistering and bubbling made her feel instantly nauseous, and she fought back an awful scream. Abruptly, her hands shot up in flames – flames which then began to crawl down her arms slowly and agonizingly. She slumped down the side of the couch, unable to bear the pain any longer._

"_You wield the power of flames, Peyton. And so it is the flames which will destroy you." _

_No longer able to contain herself, Peyton shrieked in complete agony._

Though the sound was slightly muffled, Paige was instantly aware of the shrieking that came from the top floor. She sat up straight, her mind racing as she looked to her sister, who had also heard the cries.

"It's either Melinda or Peyton," Phoebe said, suddenly fearful. Both women, as well as their daughters, shot up from their seats and ran towards the staircase. As they neared the second floor, Paige was sure she'd heard her husband ask, "What was that?" With little time to answer, she and Phoebe first ran into Mel's room, only to find her sitting on her bed working, headphones plugged into her ears.

"The attic," Paige said, as she made a break for the last flight of stairs. Behind them, Melinda exited her room, confused as she now registered the screams coming from the top floor. As she began to follow, her mother and uncles bounded up the stairs as well, all in a panic. Immediately she understood what had happened – Peyton had fallen asleep. She cursed to herself, now wishing she'd chosen to ditch her paper instead of leaving her cousin alone and unattended.

As Paige and Phoebe entered the attic, they were immediately hit with the smell of burning flesh. Paige realized the smell was coming from the far right wall, where her daughter sat writhing in pain, eyes pinned shut. Without thinking, she sprinted across the floor and fell to her daughter's side, noting the blisters flaring across Peyton's burning skin. She and Phoebe began shaking the girl, trying to get her to wake, though she seemed somewhat trapped in the throes of her own nightmare.

Henry was next to run into the room, coming to his daughter's aid. The sight of her burning hands made him cringe, yet he remained level-headed and joined in shaking Peyton.

Suddenly her eyes bolted open, yet the screaming continued as she gazed upon her trembling, scorched flesh.

"Honey… honey, it's okay. You're awake now," Paige soothed, placing her hands over Peyton's injuries.

"Mom's going to heal you, and you're going to be just fine," Henry added, still feeling quite unsettled himself. He watched nervously as the golden glow emanated from his wife's hands, and the blisters and burns began to vanish from Peyton's skin. However, even after her hands and forearms returned to normal, she remained whimpering and frightful.

Peyton clutched her arms against her chest, still feeling the burn even after she'd physically recovered. Her parents, as well as the rest of her family, stood at her side offering calming words and concern. Honestly, she did feel a little better with her mother holding her and her father rubbing her back, but she still couldn't bring herself to speak. All she could do was ruminate over the demon's most prominent parting statement: _"You needed to understand, child, that magic is a curse. Your powers will only bring you pain."_

Of course, she understood that by nature the demon's purpose was to monger fear. Her words had probably been embellished greatly for dramatic effect. Nonetheless, Peyton couldn't help but wonder if there was still a shred of truth in them. After all, she, her siblings, and cousins were hardly even a day into their first major demon attack, and look how much chaos it had already caused for them. Was this what the rest of her life would be like, or would she get used to this sort of pandemonium over time?

"I think I'm okay now," she said, in an attempt to appease the rest of her family. All the attention was starting to unnerve her, and her stomach couldn't take any more disturbances. She was beginning to think she might vomit.

"Are you sure," Henry asked, believing that statement only as much as Peyton herself did, which wasn't much at all.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Dad." She looked around to gaze upon all the faces in the room, realizing they were all still staring at her. In particular, her Aunt Phoebe's expression of concern was making her feel rather uncomfortable. Normally, Peyton could conceal her emotions rather well, but right now they were running rampant throughout her, a fact that Phoebe's empathy clearly picked up on. She stared briefly at her aunt and sent her waves of reluctance and exhaustion, letting her know she was in no mood to discuss her feelings. She then stared at the ceiling and forced a sardonic smile.

"I mean, I'm not burning alive anymore, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm doing pretty swell." She hoped that her trademark sarcasm would help in dispelling some of her family's concern. They seemed to partially buy it, except for her twin, who sat forcefully at her side with a scoff.

"That's not funny," Pandora said, weaving her hand into her sister's. She didn't need empathy to know exactly how Peyton was feeling, or when she was lying. Regardless, Peyton smirked and laid her head on Pandora's shoulder.

"Well, it's _kinda_ funny." Before Pandora had a chance to protest her twin's passive emotional tendencies, a familiar swirl of blue and white orbs filtered into the room. These orbs finally manifested themselves as a tired and grinning Wyatt who, by the looks of it, came bearing good news.

"Ah, there you guys are. Come downstairs right away – we've gotta figure out how we're going to vanquish this demon."

* * *

"So let's recap," Chris stated later that afternoon, chomping on crackers to keep his energy level up. At this point just about every member of his family, especially the younger ones, were feeling exhausted. Yet he was trying to remain confident – if everything went as planned, they could all be sleeping soundly that night. "The Bakhtak demon has been infiltrating our dreams via advanced astral projection. This, of course, leaves us at an advantage as well as a disadvantage-"

"Chris," Wyatt sighed, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, "they know. You've explained this all before. Let's just go over the plan again and get to work." Chris scoffed at his brother and turned back to his family feeling mildly aggravated. He hoped the demon attacks to come would be less frustrating than this, and had a sneaking suspicion that with sleep, they certainly would be.

"First off, we're going to need to bait the demon. Wyatt, Mel, and Prue have volunteered, right?" The three young witches nodded, all seeming eager to vanquish their demon and go to bed. "Good. We'll cast a simple spell to put Mel to sleep and initiate her dreams. Once she's been unconscious for a few minutes, we'll cast another spell that will knock out Wyatt and Prue and link them to Mel's dream. How is that spell coming, by the way," Chris asked, looking to his cousin Callie. Only six of the witches were actually needed to vanquish the demon, which meant that, upon the elder Charmed Ones' request, the youngest three would be sitting out. Of course, Junior, Callie, and Belle were none too happy about this request, and had been protesting it ever since. Still, they would play their part in writing spells, creating potions, and locating the demon. For now, they would have to settle for their lesser, _safer_ roles in the vanquish.

"Almost finished," Callie replied as she sat with her sister, finishing up the potion. Junior was sitting with them as well, but seemed to be doing more grumbling than helping.

"Awesome. Once they're all inside of Mel's dream, they can work together in fending off the Bakhtak demon for as long as possible. If all goes accordingly, by the time the twins and I locate her in the underworld, she'll still be inhabiting her astral body and should be pretty easy to pick off." When Chris finished going over their plan, he paused, awaiting the recognition of the rest of his family. Seeing as he, his siblings, and cousins had concocted this plan together, they all felt pretty confident in it. Yet the adults in the room seemed rather skeptical, especially his mother and aunts.

"Have you made the vanquishing potion yet," Piper asked.

"Of course we have, as well as a backup, in case anything goes wrong."

"The only thing we're waiting on now is the spell that will link Prue and me with Mel's dream."

"We should be finished in just a few minutes," Callie added.

"Have you even located the demon yet," Paige asked. All the young Charmed Ones sighed inwardly, noting their mothers' wariness and nerves. If only their parents could _act_ as confident in their children's abilities as they claimed to be, they would all feel much better about vanquishing the Bakhtak demon.

"We don't have anything that would allow us to scry for her," Chris answered. "Luckily, the book we found her in included a summoning spell. Normally it wouldn't work, but if we summon her while she's in a dream, she'll have her guard down and we can vanquish her on the spot."

"Well, that sounds pretty idealistic, don't you think? I mean, you can't rely on it going that smoothly," Phoebe added.

"Listen, you're confident in us, aren't you? And I mean all of you," Prue said frankly, voicing the frustrations of her siblings and cousins. Their parents couldn't hide their hesitation and worry, and there would be no sense in them denying it now. Prue figured it would be better to call them out and shame them into keeping their worries to themselves.

"Of course we are," Phoebe said, walking over to place an arm around her oldest daughter. "We _know_ you can do this. We're just…"

"Scared shitless."

"Paige," Piper scolded, though she had to admit, her sister's ineloquence had accurately described the way they were all feeling.

"It's true," Paige mumbled.

"Well, cut it out," Prue said, clearly annoyed. "This is on us now. We're all coming to terms with that fact in our way. Your wariness is only making things more difficult for us."

"Prue's right," Pandora said. "I'm about to head into my first major vanquish, and you better believe I'm feelin' nervous. But I'm also confident in myself, and I'm confident in my family. I'm _dealing_ with this just fine. I know for you adults it's different, because you're parents and playing the role of bystander is very nerve-wracking for you. But give us a break…"

"Seriously, we love you all to death, but whoa. It might do you some good to sit down with a cup of tea and just chill," Melinda added. The sudden outburst of the three girls had left all six overbearing parents in the room at a loss for words. Yet the Charmed Ones especially, were suddenly wracked with guilt and, yes, even shame. In a way, the three women had been acting extremely selfish. They'd undermined their children's capabilities, despite constant claims that they had the utmost faith in the kids' powers. Furthermore, they'd burdened their children with the worry of their parental neuroticism. Worst of all, they'd caused their children to doubt their own abilities, a mistake which could cause fatal slip ups in a dangerous situation.

"Your mothers are having trouble finding their words right now," Coop said, with a slight grin. It seemed that he, Henry, and Leo had been coping with the current circumstances better than their wives, which was surprising. After all, despite Leo's former whitelighter status, the three men were mortals, outsiders looking into the Charmed life. Half the time, they were completely hopeless in helping their wives or children, a fact that caused a lot of frustration and fear. However, they'd all conceded that the most help they could offer was unwavering support and encouragement to the ones they loved. "But I'm sure what they mean to say is, 'We're sorry.'"

Consequently, after being shaken from their shame by Coop's provoking remark, each of the women grabbed their nearest child and filled the room with apologies and guilt. Of course, these overt apologies only seemed to succeed in causing a collective groan to simultaneously erupt from the youth of the family. Chris in particular, feeling antsy to commence their plan, yet also feeling annoyed by the constant distractions his family were prone to, sighed loudly, placing his head in his hand.

"Okay, okay, we get it – you're sorry. But if you really want to prove you have such incredible faith in us and that you believe we're the most capable children alive, then _please_, let us get to work," Chris stated tersely.

"Of course, of course," Phoebe said quickly, loosening the suffocating hug she'd wrapped Prudence in.

"Because we do have incredible faith in you, and-"

"Mom," Wyatt said softly, wearing an amused smirk as he strode over to place an arm around his mother's shoulder. Piper's face reddened in embarrassment as her oldest child gently pried her from Melinda's side, much to the girl's relief. As teenagers, the only thing the young Charmed Ones hated more than being doubted was being completely fussed over. Phoebe clearly registered Prue's annoyance as the girl rolled her eyes; Paige, on the other hand, was unaffected by the embarrassed squirm of her twins as she smothered them in encouragement and apologies.

"Chris is absolutely right," Wyatt stated firmly and confidently. "You can overwhelm us with hugs and kisses and apologies all you want… as soon as we prove to you what we can do." The young man smiled, glancing over at his father and uncles. Leo nodded proudly to his son, as Coop and Henry beamed on, exuding just as much pride for their own children.

The fathers knew the danger their children would soon face. As well, they felt the nagging fear and concern of their wives; however, they contained it with much more ease and grace than the Charmed Ones. It was surprising to them, in many ways – the Charmed Ones were the three most powerful witches alive, or at least they had been until the births of their own children. Yet despite their strength and the tremendous magical power they possessed, they were unable to maintain their composure in the face of hardships they themselves would not even be facing. Their incredible love and instinctual protection over their children had softened them, perhaps even weakened them in many ways. So much so, that for the first time, the young Charmed Ones' fathers felt stronger than their wives.

Who knows – perhaps they should've been as fearful as their wives. Perhaps they'd only maintained their composure due to their lack of knowledge. No matter the reason, they couldn't help but feel confident, and even optimistic. For if there was one thing they were absolutely sure of, it was that they had the most special and wonderful children alive. Their children were capable of defeating the greatest evils in existence. Yet they were more than simply capable – they were ready.

* * *

**We'll finally see some vanquishing in the next chapter... woohoo! Remember, please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all who had been reading, and especially those who had been reviewing! Shanebeckam, your suggestion really got me thinking, and I actually found just the right way to incorporate it... very soon. Thanks! Hope you all enjoy this chapter...**

**Chapter 7:  
**Melinda lay comfortably among a heap of fluffy pillows and warm blankets, each varying in degrees of coziness and warmth. Her oldest brother Wyatt and cousin Prudence sat on either side of her, eagerly, yet not quite anxiously, awaiting the delivery of Callie, Junior, and Belle's sleep spell. The sleep spell had been retrieved from the Book of Shadows earlier that evening, and the young Charmed Ones knew it had been used many a time by their parents in the past. Though they were certain the spell and supplementing potion would send Melinda into a deep slumber, the young witches had modified the spell to ensure that vivid dreams – or nightmares, in this case – would accompany the witch, as well. That way, Wyatt and Prue would have to wait only a brief time before joining their sleeping cousin.

Callie, Junior, and Belle walked into the attic, notepad in tow, and the three waiting witches were certain that all spells were completed, and the vanquish could begin. Chris and the twins entered a minute later as Junior filled a vial with a deep blue liquid, and Wyatt was particularly surprised when he realized their parents would not be joining them.

"No baggage," Prue asked, picking up on the same peculiar absence that Wyatt had.

"I'm assuming you're referring to our lovely parents," Chris said dryly with a slight laugh. Prue grinned in affirmation, and Pandora shook her head.

"They told us to call if we need anything."

"Otherwise, they're staying out of it," Peyton added with a shrug.

"They're trying awfully hard to assert their faith in us, don't you think," Melinda asked, leaning back on her elbows with a yawn.

"Who cares," Belle said, seemingly still aggravated over her exclusion from the vanquish. Junior walked over to Melinda and quietly handed her the potion.

Holding up the vial in front of her face, she puckered her lips. "How is this going to taste?"

"It smelled pretty sweet while Callie and I were brewing it," Junior replied. "Now you'll need to take that as soon as Belle recites the spell." Melinda nodded and Prue appeared slightly taken aback.

"Belle is saying the spell?" Belle bounded towards her sister and flicked her quickly on the tip of her nose before grabbing the notepad from Callie.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, _I am_ going to be reciting the spell, Prudence. Why so surprised?" Prue rubbed her nose and shrugged, mumbling inaudible replies. "Now lean back, Mel." Annabelle pushed her older cousin zealously back against the stack of pillows behind her. In many ways, the young witch was feeling particularly excited at the prospect of reciting the sleep spell. At least she could prove her power in some ways, albeit small.

"Everybody ready," Chris asked, taking a seat on the floor in front of his cousins. The three witches seated among the pillows and blankets nodded first, and the rest of the teens followed suit. Anticipation quickly filled the room as Chris nodded to his youngest cousin, who stood over Melinda thumbing through the pages of the notepad. When she found the page upon which Callie had scribbled the spell, she took a deep breath and smiled.

"_Poppy, yar and_

_Brisbane steep_

_To make a potion_

_For potent sleep._

_Plunder the depths_

_Of what can't be seen_

_To invoke the vision_

_Of vivid dreams." _The moment Belle finished uttering the incantation, Mel lifted the tiny vial to her lips and quickly downed the blue liquid. As she swallowed the potion, she momentarily raised her eyebrows, as if she were about to comment on the taste. However, before she had a chance to open her mouth, her eyes drooped rapidly shut, and Wyatt guided her body gently back onto the pillows, drawing a blanket over her as he did.

Feeling triumphant, Belle looked cockily in Prue's direction and exclaimed, "Yeah. That's what's up." The older teen rolled her eyes and smirked, pleased that her younger sisters and Junior had brewed an effective potion, and successfully modified the spell. In time, they too would be allowed to vanquish demons, but as for now, they were serving a vital purpose, one which they were honing quickly.

The young Charmed Ones endured the next few minutes in relative silence. After five had passed, Wyatt looked to his brother and spoke quietly. "I think Prue and I ought to go in now."

"As long as you're ready, I'm sure Mel is," Chris replied casually. Wyatt motioned to his younger cousins to bring over the joining spell. Instantly they were hovering about Wyatt and Prue, fussing and clearly anxious to see if their spell would work. In truth, the creation of the spell was mainly the work of Callie and Belle, and Callie had volunteered to perform the recitation.

"Lie down," Junior instructed, throwing down a few extra pillows around his soon-to-be-unconscious cousins. When the two were ready to join Melinda, Callie gulped silently.

"Nervous," Prue asked her sister quietly, with a gentle grin. The diligent and overly analytical teen nodded, and Prue grinned wider. She had no doubt that the spell Callie had written would work perfectly – her sister was incredibly intelligent and capable, at times more than she herself was. She was not at all bothered by this fact, and was honestly quite proud of her sister for it. "Be confident, Cal. Your spell is going to work great."

"Okay, if you think so, Prue. Just… be careful while you're waiting for the others to vanquish the demon."

"C'mon, I am the _epitome_ of careful." Callie chuckled as she stood before her sister and cousin, holding the notepad shakily in her hand. She looked back at Chris, who smiled, filling her with tremendous reassurance.

"Now, uh, both of you take this potion." The nervous witch dug into her pocket and pulled out two small vials.

"You found this in the book," Wyatt asked curiously.

"Well, no. I made it myself. Special, you know, for the spell. I'm almost certain it'll work though, so don't worry." Wyatt and Prue uncorked their bottles, drinking down the purple liquid at Callie's insistence.

"We're good to go, Cal," Prue said, closing her eyes. Callie nodded and began her recitation.

"_As one is doused in reverent sleep_

_Visions before that were hers to keep_

_Become joined in the minds of those that need_

_Pleasant dreams of another to reap."_ Silence filled the room at once, and Callie wondered if her potion and spell had been successful. "How do we know if it really worked," She asked, turning to Chris. The young man smiled and shrugged.

"We'll just have to wait and see. But in the meantime," Chris poked his unconscious brother's body, "they're definitely asleep."

"Yeah, and from the looks of it, they're somewhere pretty far off from here," Pandora added with a wistful smile. Of course, Callie had to admit that this was true. She simply hoped that wherever her sister and cousins were - together or apart, dreaming or not – they would be safe.

* * *

_When Wyatt and Prue awoke, they feared they'd find themselves in the attic once again, lying amidst comfortable blankets and pillows. Yet as Wyatt opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of his little sister standing above him. Her hands were fixed upon her hips, and a look of pure determination adorned her petite face. In many ways, her total demeanor reminded him of his mother, and for a brief moment, he feared Melinda might scold him. Yet as he pulled himself from the ground to take in his surroundings, Mel smiled. _

"_Thanks for joining me."_

"_No problem," Prue replied dazedly, gazing around the cave in which they currently sat. The stone walls looming high above their heads glowed a deep russet color, painted in flickering shadows cast by the few torches lining the room. The ground was cold and extremely hard, a fact Wyatt's bottom noted as he pulled his sweatshirt tighter around his broad frame. The young man was instantly aware that he was not engaged in a regular dream. His awareness was heightened, his senses more keen and his emotions more direct. _

"_You know, I didn't even realize I was dreaming until you guys showed up. That potion must've really knocked me out good. But as soon as I saw you, everything came rushing back to me." Prue grabbed Melinda's outstretched hands, and immediately, she was pulled to her feet. Wyatt stood on his own, brushing the dust from his pants as he did and crossing his arms over his chest._

"_So, are we just supposed to wait here," Prue asked, leaning against Mel's shoulder. Wyatt shook his head, staring out at the cavern extending from the far left wall of the room._

"_The demon is part of the dream. We have to experience the vision she's fabricated before we can find her."_

"_And this dream could be practically anything, huh?" Wyatt shrugged, looking to his sister._

"_It _could _be anything, but regardless, it's still your dream, Mel. It has to be related to you in some way, probably something you're afraid of."_

"_I figured as much," she muttered, gazing out upon the cavern with her brother. Suddenly, she grabbed Prue's hand and tugged on Wyatt's shirt sleeve, nodding ahead. "We're supposed to go this way."_

"_How do you know," Prue asked, padding along beside her cousins while wearing an expression that was simultaneously curious and overly alert. _

"_It's my dream," Melinda shrugged, "and it's telling me we need to go this way." The three young Charmed Ones walked through a dimly lit labyrinth of caverns that was entirely foreign to them. Melinda led, somehow sensing familiarity or direction in her unconscious mind, which pointed her forward like the arrow of a compass. After what felt like several minutes of silent walking, Melinda stopped short in a small dark chamber. A single torch lit the room, stationed in the very center, casting an eerie glow upon the entrance, and what appeared to be three separate exits. The three exit ways were precisely and neatly carved into the face of the wall, making them seem entirely out of place. _

"_Where do you think those lead," Prue asked, caution creeping unnaturally into her voice. Melinda squinted and strained to see what lie within the three exits, though ostensibly, the only thing they concealed was utter darkness. Nonetheless, the young witch felt unconsciously drawn to them, and realized the dream was provoking her to enter. _

"_I'm not sure… but we're supposed to find out. C'mon, let's go." Melinda waved forward, and to her surprise, Wyatt did not protest. Instead, her brother and cousin stuck to her side as she entered into the first aperture. _

_Upon their first step inside the opening, the three witches were surrounded by pitch blackness. Regardless, they joined hands and trudged on. Abruptly they stopped as a blinding white light filled the room. For a few seconds, all three were without vision. But as their sight returned and the light softened to a tolerably warm tint, the witches found themselves standing comfortably in a small bedroom._

_Upon the floor, among a throng of childish toys and other playthings sat a small brunette baby and a blonde-haired toddler. Kneeling beside the blonde boy was a despairing woman, accompanied by two teary eyed sisters. Instantly, Wyatt recognized the scene as one from his own memories, and he was momentarily gripped with an ignorant and naïve sadness he thought had passed with his childhood. Prue and Melinda also recognized the familiar faces within the scene instantly, yet they were unsure when it had occurred or what was happening. _

"_What are we seeing," Melinda asked quietly, turning to Wyatt. The young man did not acknowledge his sister as he strode into the room and knelt beside his younger self. As Piper engulfed her son in a pained and loving embrace, one which she'd assumed to be the last they would share, the older blonde hung his head._

"_One of my first memories," he mumbled sadly, captivated by the scene. "The Bakhtak knows Prue and I are here too…" _

"_How old were you," Prue asked, distracted by the tears streaming down her aunts' faces, as well as the solemnity of her mother's expression._

"_Two and a half, I think… something like that." Giving the shoulder of his younger self a sorry squeeze, Wyatt stood and turned to Prue and Mel with a sigh. _

"_Was this before the Ultimate Battle," Melinda asked, assuming a dire situation._

"_Earlier than that, even. It must've been more than a year before. There was a demon named… Zankou, I think. An extremely powerful demon. He'd tapped into the spiritual nexus and had acquired enough power to destroy the Charmed Ones." Turning back at the sound of his mother and aunts' departing orbs, he shook his head. "They were certain they would die. They left Chris and me with grandpa – he would be the one to raise us. This was their final goodbye, or… they thought so." Seeing the sadness that had stricken her brother's face, as well as the confusion of his younger self, Melinda had to hold back tears. She walked forward and wrapped her arm around Wyatt's torso._

"_This was one of your first memories, Wy?" He nodded with a frown. "I'm sorry it has to be such an unhappy one." Wyatt looked down to his baby sister and smiled, just slightly. It wasn't often that they were entirely nice to each other. The dynamic of their relationship revolved around teasing and snarky quips. There was a strong mutual love and sense of protection between them at all times, though they rarely showed it. Moments like these, in which Melinda would speak softly and sympathetically towards her brother, offering only love, were rare moments indeed. _

"_Me too. This was their lives though: constantly warding off the demon of the week. Some were deadlier than others, some were simply too tricky. They always pulled through though… for us." _

"_That sucks," Prue said. Wyatt chuckled solemnly and shook his head._

"_Saving the world on a monthly basis isn't exactly meant to be a cakewalk, but to them, I think it was worth it. They had Chris and I to protect, a better world to make for all of their kids."_

"_I suppose we should be proud to maintain what they fought for," Melinda mumbled._

"_We should be. And we will." For several minutes, the three young witches sat with little Wyatt and Chris, not saying a thing. The young Halliwells of Wyatt's memory did not acknowledge the presence of their elder counterparts, rightfully so. The witches were merely looking into the past – the objects they touched and the sounds that penetrated their ears were dull and far away. Despite their involvement in the memory, it still seemed as though they were viewing a film, held within the confines of a fuzzy television. _

"_We could sit here forever," Mel reminded them, standing behind her brother. Slowly he nodded, not peeling his gaze away from his younger self for another moment. Prue took her place at Mel's side, slipping her hand inside her cousin's._

"_I know," Wyatt sighed, looking back towards their exit. "We should go." The girls nodded, and together they left the room, opting not to look back. As they stepped through the black aperture, white light consumed them once again. Stepping forward blindly, they found themselves in the dimly lit cavern where they had begun. Immediately, Mel stepped towards the second exit way._

"_She wants us to see what lies behind all three openings." Prue and Wyatt nodded, stepping forth so that the three witches could experience the shift of harsh light once again. When their vision adjusted, they were standing in a large room that was quite unfamiliar to them. This room, a nursery or playroom, they assumed from the crib, tiny bed, and mounds of childish toys and books, was pleasantly decorated. A beautiful azure skyscape had been painted upon the ceiling, and the walls were striped with light yellows and greens. _

_Seated near a large toy chest was a beautiful little girl, perhaps only three years in age, with light blonde curls and fair skin. Sunshine from the window at the far end of the room spilled golden light upon the girl's already golden hair, making her seem more like an exuberant young cherub than a human child. Inside the crib, soft coos sounded, and the girl looked back with a smile. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she giggled and exclaimed, "Patrick, you're supposed to be napping!" _

_The young girl turned back to the toy chest, digging around for just the right plaything. She squealed slightly when she seemed to have found what she was looking for. She leaned as far into the toy chest as should could without falling in and the rustling of many toys was heard inside. When she reemerged, her tiny hands were clenched around heaps of plastic animals. Feeling satisfied with her animals, she plopped down on the ground, and began placing them carefully in and around a small plastic barn and silo. _

_As the blonde cherub mooed and oinked delightedly, a tall, gruff looking man appeared in the doorway. For a moment, the man stood watching the girl, his dirty blonde waves falling upon his unshaven face carelessly. His blue eyes were ringed with sleep deprived bags and the creases indicative of anxiety. Yet as he stared upon the happy young girl, his eyes lit up with mild serenity. After a moment, the man finally entered the door, and took a seat next to the girl._

_Her mouth slightly gaping open in surprise, Melinda turned to her brother and asked, "Wy, do you think that's you? It's gotta be, right?" The young man chuckled, running a hand through his hair, which was far more maintained than that of his older counterpart._

"_I think so, Mel." _

"_Holy Hell," Prue whispered excitedly. "That's your daughter!" Before Wyatt had a chance to ask how Prue had gleaned this fact, his older self spoke in an all too familiar, yet slightly more antiquated voice._

"_Hey, Lucy."_

"_Hey, Daddy," the girl said distractedly. As her father watched her, she picked up a plastic horse and handed it to him. "Wanna play?"_

"_Sure, for a little bit." he said tiredly, yet still happily._

"_Okay! You need to be that horsey – he's the daddy. And this one," the girl picked up the small foal that had been placed next to its parent, "is me! 'Cause she's tiny and cute, just like I am." For many minutes, father and daughter played together, producing animal noises and giggles all the while. However, older Wyatt's distraction was apparent._

_Eventually, the man sighed and said, "You know I have to leave soon, right Lucy?" The girl slowed her actions, and avoided her father's eye._

"… _I know."_

"_But only for a few hours." Lucy set down her animals and crossed her arms in a way that was beyond her years._

"_It's the day before Christmas, Daddy…"_

"_I know, honey," Wyatt said, placing a hand on the girl's cheek._

"_You were supposed to help me and mommy bake cookies for Santa." _

"_I know…"_

"_Why do you have to leave," Lucy asked, finally looking her father in the eye, though he could not meet her gaze._

"_I already explained, I have important things to take care of, with Uncle Chris and Aunt Melinda. And all of our cousins, too." The girl appeared skeptical, causing extra anxiety in her father._

"_What kind of important things?"_

"… _Business," Wyatt replied unconvincingly. Of course, he should not have had to convince his three year old daughter. _

_For a long moment, the girl stared her father in the face disbelievingly. Then, quite matter of factly, she said, "Like important demon things?" The man was clearly breathless and without words for a minute. His daughter's observational skills often left him at a loss for words, especially when they involved magic. Finally, the older Wyatt mustered a nod. "Can you promise you'll be home to read me a Christmas story before bed," Lucy whispered._

_Unfortunately, Wyatt shook his head, and as if his heart was breaking said, "No… I'm sorry, baby. I can't promise that." For a second it looked as though Lucy might cry, but she simply looked down and frowned._

"_Can you promise you'll try?" Wyatt cupped his daughter's face in his hands and smiled._

"_I promise, I will try harder than anything." Lucy grinned then, and leaped into her father's lap. Immediately, she was engulfed in a massive hug._

"_I'm hugging her like I might never see her again…" the young Watt noted solemnly. As his older self and future daughter embraced, what appeared to be an older version of Melinda entered the room. She was as petite and beautiful as always, her features fine and fair, yet more mature than they were now._

"_Hey, Wy. Hey, Lucy." Melinda strode into the room and stood beside the large crib, looking inside with a sad smile. Immediately, she picked up the baby boy inside, swaddled in a blue blanket. Looking down at the boy with immense affection, she quietly said, "Almost ready, Wyatt?"_

"_Yeah," the man said, clearly despising the fact. Melinda laid a long, soft kiss on the boy's forehead and hugged him to her chest before kneeling upon the carpet and looking to her niece._

"_Hey, Luce, can you come here for a second?" The little girl nodded and jumped from her father's arms to her aunt's side. Holding baby Patrick in one arm, Melinda placed her other around the girl's waist._

"_What is it, Auntie?"_

"_Patrick has been missing me an awful lot whenever I go away lately. He'll have his daddy here to watch him, but I was hoping you could keep him company too? With your other cousins?" The little girl smiled widely and nodded with extra vigor._

"_Yeah! I'm the oldest cousin… it's my job." Melinda laughed._

"_You are, sweetie. And Patrick loves you very much. If you stay by his side, he won't miss me quite as bad."_

"_I'll stay with him forever, Aunt Melinda." Mel smiled and kissed her niece on the cheek._

"_Thank you, Lucy." With that, Melinda stood and held Patrick to her chest once again, this time for an extra long minute. After she'd sufficiently smothered him with her love, she placed him gently into the crib and whispered, "Mommy loves you, baby boy." She then made her way for the door, squeezing her brother's shoulder on the way out. _

"_I'll be out in a minute," Wyatt said, unable to take his eyes off of Lucy for a second._

_The moment Melinda exited the room, the scene before them changed to the hallway just outside of Lucy's room. Melinda's back slumped against the wall, and she buried her face in her hands. Her body tensed immediately, and an older and… rounder Prudence padded down the end of the hallway._

"_Dear lord, I'm pregnant," young Prudence exclaimed in quiet surprise. Had the scene not been so somber, Melinda would've chuckled._

"_Mel," the older Prue said, concern in her voice. She stood in front of her cousin, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" _

_Melinda pulled her hands away from her face to smile weakly at Prue. She shook her head, in an attempt to shake off the anxiety, and said, "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay. Just… sad, you know?" Prue nodded glumly._

"_Yeah, I know. This time is… different."_

"_Very different," Melinda agreed unhappily, her voice squeaking from the nerves. "I hate having to leave Patrick this way – not knowing if I'll come back to him." For a moment Mel's voice broke, and Prue held her._

"_I know. I hate that it has to be this way too… and today, of all days. I just wish I could go with you guys." Melinda pulled away, her face stern._

"_No, you don't, Prue. You and that little girl of yours have been put in jeopardy too many times over the course of your pregnancy. One more time could be the last for both of you. And I could _not_ handle something happening to either of you. Especially not after losing Pandora." _

_Young Melinda turned immediately to Prue and said, "Holy shit. Dora…" Wyatt placed a hand on his sister's shoulder and urged her to focus on the scene playing out before them._

"_I know, you're absolutely right, Mel. We'll be safe here with the rest of the kids. But don't worry, I know you'll be home to see them all off to bed."_

"_How do you know that," Melinda asked with a smile._

"_Because tomorrow is Christmas. Nothing bad ever happens on Christmas." Melinda laughed and hugged her cousin. _

"_I should've known. I love you, Prue."_

"_I love you too, Mel." The now familiar white light once again filled the room, and all three witches knew that the scene had played itself out. As they stepped from the room back into the cavern, mixed emotions ran rampant throughout them. For one thing, the prospect of a future as solemn as that they'd just seen frightened them. They imagine themselves, constantly leaving their families, their children, and dull sadness punctured them. As well, they could not ignore the fact that in this future scenario, one of their loved ones, their cousin Pandora, to be exact, had been killed. All three shivered at the thought. However, the glimpse into the other aspects of this scenario filled them with a certain amount of hope and happiness. They realized that age would not weaken their bond, and would in fact strengthen it. As well, their future as parents was now all too real to them, and the beauty and affection of Lucy, Patrick, and Prue's pregnant belly had been unconsciously uplifting, at least in some small way._

_The three witches soon found themselves standing before the final aperture, ruminating over their emotions. For a brief moment, they all felt hesitance towards entering the opening. The past two scenes they'd endured had been highly emotional, and they all feared this final scenario would be more painful than the last. Nonetheless, they knew that if they were to find the Bakhtak demon and execute the final stage in their plan, they would have to enter. _

"_Let's go," Wyatt said, breaking the silence. His sister and cousin nodded, following his lead. Once again there was darkness, followed by bright light, followed by their awaiting scenario. However, this time, as their respective visions returned and the room fleshed out before them, each witch realized they were alone. _

"_Wyatt… Prue," Melinda whispered, registering the small, cage-like cavern she was now standing in. A single torch was fixed into the wall, and shadows danced across every surface. Panic suddenly filled her as she pondered the whereabouts of her brother and cousin. Had the spell linking their minds failed? No, it couldn't have – Callie would not have concocted such a faulty potion or spell. This had to of been one of the Bakhtak's tricks._

_As that very thought occurred to Melinda, she felt a chilling finger run down the length of her spine. A vapid, disjointed voice was soon to follow. "Melinda Halliwell. I'm so glad we can be alone together." Within a split second occurrence, the Bakhtak wrapped her arm violently around Melinda's throat and the torch on the wall was extinguished. Her entire body shuddered as the terror of the situation sunk in, and for the first time since this dream began, Melinda truly wondered how long she could hold off the Bakhtak demon before succumbing to her ghostly grip._

* * *

Chris, Pandora, and Peyton stood in a small and secluded cavern in the underworld. Where exactly they were located – they had no idea; just how many demons could be lurking around the corner – of this they were also unsure. Nonetheless, they were standing now before the object of their conquest – a ghostly and vile looking female demon with flowing fingers reminiscent of the tentacles of a cephalopod. When not terrorizing their dreams, the Bakhtak actually appeared slightly less imposing. They were immune to the chill of her wandering voice and her imperious obsidian gaze.

"We don't have time to stand and stare at her," Pandora reminded. "You should throw the potion, Chris. Now." The young man nodded, his green eyes glinting in the pale light of a single torch. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small potion vial, and launched it immediately at the limp demon that lay splayed before them. However, before the potion reached the Bakhtak, it seemed to yield at an invisible barrier four inches above the cave floor. As the potion began to smoke and the three witches stood in confusion, a male demon was made tangible in front of the Bakhtak.

"Surprise," the large, brutish demon said as two other demons shimmered in on either side of him.

Chris' brow furrowed in aggravation as he muttered, "You've got to be kidding me…" He assumed the demons, or namely the invisible demon, had been standing guard over the Bakhtak during her astral projection. When the young Charmed Ones had summoned her defenseless and unconscious form, the demon had followed, leaving two other demons in wait for an attack. This was a complication that had not been part of the plan; however, the witches knew it had been somewhat likely. This is part of the reason why Chris and the twins were the team doing the vanquishing – together, their powers were the most offensive.

The central demon flared two fireballs in his hand, and launched them immediately towards Chris and the twins.

"I don't think so," Peyton said, her annoyance showing through as the two accompanying demons leaped from their leader's side towards Pandora and herself. Chris quickly orbed out of the way of the fireball that had been aimed at him, reappearing at the side of the central demon. Peyton smugly caught the fireball sailing towards Pandora and her, and extinguished it in her hand. "_Don't_ use my own power against me."

Chris made short work of the central demon, though he was not surprised. He had not sensed great power from any of his current opponents, and even wondered why they had been chosen to stand guard over the Bakhtak in the first place. After all, they were guarding her from the Charmed Ones. Why wouldn't they have chosen more powerful demons?

Without leaving himself much time to question why he was facing such an unworthy demon, he grabbed the foe in a telekinetic chokehold, and pinned him against the wall. Meanwhile, using his free hand, he cast one of the demons the twins were contending with against the opposite wall. In the next minute, they could double team one demon while the other was incapacitated, and he could vanquish his own with ease.

"Ice him, Dora," Peyton shouted.

"Duh," Pandora replied, freezing the demon in its entirety. "It won't last long. Take care of him." Peyton nodded and placed her hand upon the abdomen of the demon, warming the ice beneath her palm rapidly, causing it to melt. When she'd made herself a small opening, she called out to the athame hanging from Chris' belt, and orbed it into her hand. Beneath the ice, the demon watched in horror, his eyes bulging, though unable to move, as Peyton plunged the athame into his exposed abdomen. The demon burst into immediate flames and disintegrated into a cloud of dust.

As Chris sent electrokinetic bolts into his own demon, he grinned. His cousins may be new at this, but they were smart, and together, through their twin bond, they were strong, as well. As for how he was faring… well, he didn't have the most experience in vanquishing demons, but he was finding the task at hand particularly effortless. Within a minute, the electrokinetic bolts buzzing from Chris' fingertips ravaged the demon completely. Unable to withstand the pain any longer, the weakling finally allowed his body to succumb to the electricity. In a moment he was howling in anguish as the flames of vanquish engulfed his body.

When Chris finally looked back, Pandora and Peyton were simultaneously bombarding their demon with ice and fire. Steam rose from the demon's skin as the vicious extremes of heat and frost penetrated his flesh. The young man stared on in slight awe at the way the twins' powers melded together into a single, cohesive attack. The demon was soon overpowered by the sheer force of their abilities, and shot up into deathly flames.

Peyton stood staring over the pile of dust she and her sister had created, while Pandora turned back to face her cousin. Naturally, Chris was expecting her to erupt into some sort of smug or snarky comment regarding the ease of the three demons' vanquishes. Yet when she met his eyes, her face was masked in complete seriousness.

"Finish the job, Chris." Though he was slightly taken off guard by Dora's reaction, he reached into his pocket unconsciously and pulled out the backup potion. He walked over to where the limp Bakhtak lay, still projecting her ghostly and torturous visions upon his siblings and cousin. Standing directly over top her form, he left no room for error in his vanquish – her terror would end now. With extra force, Chris hurled the vial at the demon's body. The second the potion collided with her skin, the glass of the vial cracked, and the liquid poured out in a sizzling, smoky ooze.

Instantly, the demon's eyes bolted open, as piercing and gruesome as they'd ever been. However, in this moment, there was something far more terrible in her appearance: agony. Though Chris was satisfied and took much pleasure in her suffering, the quick, sharp pangs of anguish twisted the Bakhtak's face into a grotesque expression. The demon let out a shrill, high-pitched cry that echoed through the cavern and seemed to crawl beneath their skin. The hairs on Chris' neck and arms stood straight up, and his body was wracked with an uncomfortable shudder. He never once peeled his gaze from hers ,though, as he watched her body flame into oblivion.

When all that remained of the Bakhtak was a black pile of dust, the twins walked to Chris' side.

"And that's it now – she's gone, right," Peyton asked. Chris nodded with a tired smile. He placed a hand on each of the girls' shoulders and yawned.

"Yeah, she's gone. Wanna go home?"

"Hell yes," Pandora vigorously replied. With a slight, sleepy laugh, Chris orbed them from the Underworld towards home.

* * *

Melinda unconsciously registered an aggravating poking in her ribcage as she opened her eyes. When her vision focused, and she regained awareness of her surroundings, she registered her cousin Peyton standing atop her, grinning in a way that was so terribly frustrating for those on the receiving end of it. Melinda sat up with a mock scowl.

"I find myself waking up to your stupid poking far more frequently than I'd like."

"What? You don't find it as delightful as I do," Peyton asked with an amused grin. Mel shook her head, suddenly remembering where she was and why she was there. She reached reflexively beside herself for her brother and cousin. Though she did not feel Wyatt's tall, lanky form beside her, she still assumed he was alright, as no one was in a panic. Turning to her other side, however, Chris was healing Prue, who's face and arms seemed to be covered entirely in scratches and welts.

"Oh my God, Prue, are you alright," she asked in an immediate panic. Prue merely turned back with a grin, the Bakhtak's painful reminders disappearing from her skin beneath Chris' healing glow.

"Well, thank you for joining us, sleeping beauty. And yeah, I'm fine." Melinda shook her head, unable to find the apparent humor in the situation. However, as she took a personal inventory of the room, searching for each loved one, she had a hard time sensing much anxiety. Peyton had sat down beside Pandora, seated in front of the now healing Prue. Behind them stood Junior, Callie, and Belle, who eagerly waited for all the scratches to vanish completely from her sister's skin. Finally, Wyatt was standing beside Chris with his hands carelessly in his pockets.

"How did everything go?" Chris looked to his sister and snorted.

"_Terrible._ We almost had her… then she killed us." As the golden glow receded and Prue stretched her limbs, Melinda felt an intense pang of annoyance.

"Christopher Perry, are you kidding me?"

"What do you think, Mel," Wyatt laughed, walking over to pat his sister on the head. She swatted his hand away and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Jeez, somebody's _cranky._"

"You're damn right I am," she sneered, standing up and stomping towards the door, dragging a large comforter along with her.

"Where are you going," Wyatt asked, half amused and half intimidated. Their mother's temper always seemed to show itself most in Mel when she was particularly exhausted.

"To bed!" Silence followed in the wake of Melinda's outburst, until finally, every teen in the room broke out in snickers and laughs. Looking to each other, they shrugged and sluggishly made their way for the stairs, one at a time.

"As bitchy as that was," Belle yawned, making her way for the door, now at Prue's side, "she's got the right idea."

* * *

**Ahh, finally an end to their first demon... I've got something interesting coming up next. Please review! Remember, I'm looking for any and all suggestions/criticisms!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, sorry for the delay on this chapter, but finals have kept me bogged down recently... anyways, I had fun writing this one, and the next few will be pretty amusing, too. Hope you like it, and please don't forget to review with criticisms and suggestions for future chapters!**

**Chapter 8:  
**Junior lay upon the floor of the attic, resting his eyes while awaiting the arrival of his cousins, Callie and Belle. He'd texted them earlier in school, informing them that exclusively, as the three youngest Charmed Ones, it was imperative they meet to discuss their current magical inhibitions. Of course, what he'd told his Aunt Piper and cousin Chris when orbing into the manor was an entirely different story. As far as they knew, he, Callie, and Belle were meeting to practice potion making, which in all honesty, had become a rather believable alibi, as of late. Since they'd been designated the official potion makers, spell writers, and in Junior's personal opinion, "lackeys" of the nine Charmed children, they'd taken their jobs rather seriously. Nonetheless, the busy work they'd been delegated did not come without mild resentment on the part of all three young teens.

Since the attack and vanquish of the dreadful Bakhtak demon, an increasingly long list of demons had tried their hand at destroying the young Charmed Ones. These foolish demons, varying in strength and intelligence, proved themselves to be nothing more than easy vanquishes. Sure, there were the select few along that list that had made themselves particularly troublesome. However, even when the next generation was outwitted, they had by no means met a match in power. In fact, they had to suppose that as a whole, the power of three, thrice over, could meet only a few opponents who would be worth sneezing at. As a special cohort of the Source, the Bakhtak had been one of these demons, giving the Charmed Ones an instant run for their money. All nine knew that the Source had other powerful allies held close at hand, and he would dole them out appropriately, at the worst possible time.

Currently, however, the Source and his pesky legion were spending ample time building their collective power, and more than likely, constructing plans to oppose the forces of good. The next generation was aware of this fact, and as they became more adept in their demon killing, they too found themselves plotting ways in which they might dismantle all the progress evil had made in the past months. In many ways, the demons they were currently fighting could be considered practice.

Unfortunately, the three youngest Charmed Ones had been relegated to the sidelines of their older cousins and siblings' fight against evil. This "demotion," as Junior himself considered it, truly made no sense. He and Callie, for instance, were only a year younger than Prue, and she'd been allowed to vanquish as many demons as she'd pleased. And he didn't like to admit it, but Junior considered his powers more of an asset than Prue's. After all, her powers were based mainly in her cupid blood, meshing with the witch in her to manifest in growing telekinetic and astral abilities. Though she was a very strong witch, Junior still felt that the beams he shot from his eyes, mixed with his whitelighter powers and intimidating physical stature, were still collectively stronger than what Prue could offer. Then again, Junior was also far more arrogant than Prudence was, and he had to admit that, as well.

Still, his point stood that he, Callie, and Belle should be permitted to vanquish alongside their siblings and cousins. In truth, there was no real reason why they shouldn't, and the three often believed their parents' fickle reasoning was only meant to appease their parental worries. If this were the case, then his mother and aunts would find any possible loophole to keep their babies safe from the fight against evil, no matter how ridiculous. Thus Junior had concluded that if he, Callie, and Belle ever wanted to use their powers to their full potential, they would have to fight evil on their own terms. _Without_ their parents' permission.

A mischievous and excited smile curled over Junior's lips as he pondered the prospect of his and his youngest cousins' abilities. They would show their siblings, cousins, and parents that in the Charmed life, age could only be a number. They would prove themselves to be just as capable as the six young Charmed Ones currently fighting evil.

Junior heard his cousins' soft footfalls ascending the stairs, and sat up, stretching his limbs. "You're late," he said as Callie and Belle entered the attic, rolling their eyes. Since they'd been broken from the six other young Charmed Ones into their own power of three, Junior had become their self-proclaimed leader. Honestly, Belle thought that Callie ought to be the "leader," if there were to be any at all. After all, she was the most practiced in magic, had the greatest passion for it, and was the smartest out of the three of them. Unfortunately, there was no knocking Junior off his high horse once he'd hoisted himself upon it. Belle, despite her stubbornness, refused to vainly argue over this fact.

"You never gave us a time," Callie said tiredly, shutting the attic door behind her.

"Well… doesn't matter now. Sit down. We've got business to discuss."

"Oh, _business,_" Belle sarcastically exclaimed, taking a seat on the floor with her older sister. Callie could only sigh, knowing that when Junior meant business, it usually also meant trouble.

"Yes. Business."

"Do me a favor and make it quick," Callie said, leaning back on her elbows. "I've got work to do."

"Well, I've got work for us, too. So listen up – Belle, I'm sure you remember the warlock you and Prue were attacked by a few days ago."

"Duh." The warlock in question had been attempting to terrorize the Halliwell family for the past five days. Though he generally only managed in inflicting minor scrapes and bruises on the Charmed Ones, he had proved himself to be a pest. His goal was to steal as much Charmed power as he could, which would be none, if the next generation had anything to do with it. For the past few days, they'd been attempting to vanquish him, simply to get him out of their hair, but at the rate he would flee from them, the task had become rather difficult.

"Of course she remembers the warlock. He's been bugging the entire family for five days straight. So what're you driving at?" Junior smiled impishly, cracking his knuckles.

"We're going to vanquish the bastard." Callie laughed dryly, hardly amused by the sentiment.

"Oh, so now the high and mighty six are delegating _that_ kind of dirty work to us?"

"No," Junior shook his head. "No one gave us permission. But I'm saying we don't need it." Before she even opened her mouth, Junior knew Callie was about to protest. It seemed that, on the other hand, however, he'd at least piqued Belle's interest. "You know that together, we're as strong as any of the others. It doesn't matter how young we are."

"Even they know that, Junior. It doesn't make a difference," Belle said. Junior scowled at her for a brief moment. Callie got on his nerves simply because she was boring. She wanted to stick her nose in books all day and follow the rules. Though she could be quiet and sweet, she was also, at times, intolerably dry. Belle was much different than Callie. She was blunt and outspoken, never failing to point out one of his faults. Together they could really grate on his nerves.

"It _does_ make a difference. You know the only reason we're not allowed to fight demons is because our moms and Aunt Piper are so neurotic. They're totally freaked by the idea of anything happening to us. And because we especially are the youngest, they're forbidding us from vanquishes, even though they know we can handle it."

"Okay…" At least Callie was following him. That was a good sign.

"Unless we _show_ them how capable we are, they'll never let us off the leash. So what I'm proposing now is that we do just that. We hunt down the warlock and vanquish him." Callie and Belle looked to Junior and then to each other. The young man supposed they must be tacitly communicating with each other, as they so often did in their sisterly way. Both seemed initially opposed, but at the same time, he could tell there was a part of each of them that knew he was right.

"I suppose you're right," Callie agreed, and Junior was immediately surprised. Yet a second later, his confidence was quelled. "Except for the fact that we'd be grounded for at least a month. Something tells me that would be an even bigger hindrance on our Charmed livelihood."

Belle snorted a quick laugh. "I think Cal is right. Our mom would never let us out of her sight again. She'd probably have us surgically joined to her hips or something." Junior ran his hands down his face, feeling frustrated. He had inherited the temper that seemed to be most common in the Halliwell men, and it currently was not boding well with his snarky cousins.

"If it makes you feel better, we don't have to tell anyone we actually went looking for the warlock. We can just say he popped in on us and we decided to take his vanquish into our own hands. In that case, we'd only be protecting ourselves, so they couldn't really get angry." Callie and Belle were silent in contemplation. Odds were, Belle wanted to join Junior, but she would ultimately take her sister's side, no matter what it was. They were very close in that way, despite their differences. Belle was overtly gung ho, and Callie was cautious and reserved. Nonetheless, Belle looked up to both her sisters, and would have their backs under any circumstances.

"How do you suppose we'll find him? Part of the reason he hasn't been vanquished already is because one, he's constantly blinking all over creation, and two, warlocks can' be scryed for unless-"

"Unless they've stolen a witch's powers," Junior cut in. Callie seemed surprised he was even aware of this fact.

"Have you actually been reading the book," she asked incredulously.

"Wait… I didn't even know you _could_ read," Belle snidely remarked. Callie grinned, and the young man was beginning to feel as though he'd be better off doing this job on his own.

"Yes, I can read, _squirt. _And as a matter of fact, I have been doing my homework. I mean, not so much the stuff they assign in school, but I've been doing the reading Chris has given me."

"Well, we don't know of any witches whose powers have been stolen by the warlock."

"That's where you're wrong. This morning during breakfast, my mom got called out to help one of her charges. Ten or fifteen minutes later she came back and was a little scraped up and very pissed off. Peyt healed her and she told us that her charge had been attacked by the same warlock and had his powers stolen." Callie began rapping her fingers lightly over the floorboards as she ruminated over the information Junior had given her.

Then, to the young man's surprise, she lifted her head determinedly and said, "Well, I guess that means we better get going and vanquish the son of a bitch before one of the others finds the time to." Both Junior's and Belle's eyes lit up excitedly. He thought he might have to resort to begging to get Callie on his side, but she'd been persuaded rather easily.

"Seriously," Belle asked, hopping to her feet. Callie stood and nudged her sister playfully.

"You're down, aren't you, Belle?"

"Uh, yeah!" Callie laughed and Junior grinned smugly.

"Alright then. Junior, you need to start scrying. Belle, you can help. As for a spell, there should be a simple one in the book that will do. Now, I'm gonna heart home and grab my ring."

"Your cupid ring?" Callie nodded to her cousin. The cupid ring had been a gift given to her by her father on her sixteenth birthday. A year before that, Prue had received one, as well. With her Charmed powers, it wasn't really necessary for her to carry the ring with her at all times, for its primary purpose was to augment her cupid abilities. However, the ring was a special and powerful gift, and when wearing it, her heart was especially filled with the love and compassion of those surrounding her, a feeling that greatly bolstered her confidence. "Right. Belle and I will get straight to work then."

As Callie hearted from the room Junior looked to his youngest cousin. His face split open in a wide, proud grin as he raised his hand for a well-deserved high five. "I'm the best, aren't I?" Belle rolled her eyes with a smile, and began digging out the map and scrying crystal.

"You know, I'm surprised I can even fit in the same room with you, what with your head being so big." Suddenly she looked up to Junior, and her eyes sparkled with mischievous anticipation. "But I gotta admit, sometimes I really love you for it."

* * *

Out of all the young Charmed Ones, the youngest three had definitely spent the least amount of time in the underworld. Each had their own rather extreme view of it, though none of these opinions were particularly pleasant. Callie, for one, found it completely miserable, and knew that the cupid in both her and her sister felt mildly strangled by the utter lack of love present there. She was not regretting her decision to help Junior vanquish the warlock against their parents' adamant wishes; however, that didn't mean she couldn't wait to get it over with.

"Well, isn't this place just _swell_," Belle frowned. Callie noticed that as the young witch spoke, her hand drifted protectively over her chest. Her big sister instincts immediately kicked in, and she placed her ring hand over the one Belle had placed upon her heart. Quietly, Callie sent soothing waves of love and calm over her sister, bringing a smile to the girl's face. With a bond that meshed cupids, empaths, and sisters, the two girls, along with their eldest sister, could firmly link emotions whenever they wanted, joining their hearts as one. Normally, they chose to keep their emotions partially guarded from each other, as a means of asserting their independence. But in times of fear, sadness, or other negativity, they sought the strength they could so easily lend each other.

"Yeah, I'm kind of wishing we would've brought a blanket and some food. That dank corner over there with the slimy vermin would be just the cutest little spot for a picnic," Junior added, waving his hand in a mockingly feminine manner.

"After we kill the warlock, I promise," Callie said, patting Junior's cheek sarcastically. Then, she took her sister's hand in her own and nodded towards the dark cavern ahead. "Now come on. He should be right in there, and the sooner we can get out of here the better."

"Agreed," Belle said, following her sister and cousin. "This place is miserably deprived of love. It's bummin' me out." Though she shared in her sister's discomfort, Callie placed a finger to her lips, signaling for silence. Belle nodded as her sister and cousin led their way towards the mouth of the dimly lit cavern. Peeking past the corner, all three were surprised by the depth of the cave. The ceiling was high, and lined with several crudely carved stony columns. Only a few arbitrarily placed torches were woven and lit throughout the columns, casting large, flickering shadows all across the walls.

Callie narrowed her eyes, searching for the warlock present within the cave. She knew this was the exact place where he should be, and though she did not see him, she could hear him. Somewhere from the back of the room, quiet, rhythmic whispers could be heard, presumably some sort of chant. And if there was one thing Callie new, it was that when demons, warlocks, and other evil beings began "chanting," it didn't usually end in pleasantry.

"_Move in,"_ Callie mouthed, motioning forward. Junior and Belle nodded, ducking into the cave behind her. There were enough walls, pillars, and shadows to keep them hidden if the warlock looked their way; however, he seemed too focused on his current evil doings to notice three young witches lurking around his cavern.

Hidden beneath one of the tall, rocky columns, the three Charmed Ones cautiously watched the warlock. He continued his chanting, his palms raised in front of him over top of a podium. The witches noticed that upon the podium sat a rather large book, possibly a tome of some sort.

"What is he doing," Belle asked quietly.

"Shh." The warlock suddenly dropped his palms back down to his sides, and for a moment, the teens feared that he had sensed their presence. However, still unaware, he merely picked up a small, white cylindrical object from the podium. It soon became clear what this object was, as the demon walked over to the nearest wall, and began drawing. The warlock started with a large circle, and then inside, drew a star, forming a sloppy pentagram. When finished, he carelessly dropped the piece of chalk and returned to his tome.

"Could it be some sort of ritual," Junior asked. Callie shrugged, still intently watching the warlock as he began his quiet chanting once again. Suddenly, the lines of the pentagram began to glow around the edges, and it finally dawned on Callie what exactly he was doing.

"He's creating a portal," Callie whispered urgently.

"Why," Junior asked.

"Think, if there were a triquetra in place of that pentagram, what would the portal be used for?" Just as quickly as it had dawned on Callie, the answer clicked within the other witches' minds.

"Time travel," Junior replied as Callie nodded vigorously. "That can't be good. We need to vanquish him now." Unconsciously, the three witches joined hands and ran out along the side of the pillar. The pentagram was now almost fully aglow, and if they weren't quick, the warlock would escape them.

Appearing in the open, only yards from their adversary, the warlock became blatantly aware of their presence. Turning around, a confused look spread over his face, and he snapped his fingers. The three young witches began their spell, just as two demons shimmered in front of the warlock.

"Damnit," Junior yelled, ducking out of the way of an immediate fireball. He assumed that the warlock must have been expecting some sort of intervention, and so he had kept a few cronies on call for defense. Though the young man knew both opponents would be quickly destroyed by the power of three, he also had a sour inkling that the warlock would escape. The worst part was, if he escaped to the past, they would have an even trickier time in finding him.

Feeling rather aggravated, Junior orbed the warlock's podium from against the wall, and sent it hurtling towards the demon now attacking his youngest cousin. The unlucky demon was thrown to the wall, just as Junior unleashed a beam of optical energy in his direction. The energy beam shot directly through the demon, causing him to erupt into vanquishing flames. At the same time, Junior turned on his heel to see Callie telekinetically assailing her and Belle's demon with his own fireballs. The second demon screamed as his scrawny body combusted.

"The portal," Belle shouted, just as their warlock disappeared and the pentagram began to close rapidly. Without giving it more than a thought, Junior ran to his cousins' sides, grabbing their arms roughly and orbing them directly into the tiny portal with not a second left to spare. Where they would land, they had no idea; but wherever it was, they would surely vanquish their warlock.

* * *

The three young witches appeared in the manor attic in a shower of blue and white orbs. As they reformed, all three plopped hard to the floorboards with a loud, aching thump. Immediately, they noticed their warlock tampering with a trunk behind Aunt Pearl's couch, and jumped into defensive positions. However, before they had another chance to vanquish him, the warlock sneered at the witches and blinked from the room.

"Just great," Junior muttered smacking his palm against his forehead. "I have a feeling he is going to be way harder to-" Callie cut off her cousin with a loud shush, listening as she heard the growing sound of footfalls upon the stairs. Someone had heard them when they landed in the attic, and by the urgency of their footsteps, their probably weren't going to be friendly. Naturally, Callie was expecting her mother or one of her aunts to come storming through the doorway; however, as he door burst open, the figure that forcibly greeted them left all three witches in mild shock.

Without a word, Penny Halliwell, her brown eyes blazing and graying brunette hair bobbing upon her head, sent Junior sailing towards the wall. Callie and Belle's bodies went instantly rigid, and they threw up their hands in a defensive, innocent position. It seemed Penny was slightly taken off guard by the wide-eyed wonder and obedience that the girls had been stricken with, for instead of attacking, her eyes narrowed apprehensively.

"Who are you," the Halliwell matriarch spat vehemently. At a loss for words, and feeling completely intimidated, Callie and Belle merely gulped. Junior, on the other hand, rustled through the pile of junk he'd been thrown into, rubbing his head. Her eyes darting between all three intruders, Grams raised her hands slowly, "I advise you to answer my question, _before_ I am forced to vanquish you."

"You can't vanquish us – we're witches," Junior said, the annoyance clear in his voice. On the few occasions he'd had the chance to meet with Grams, he had found her to be a strong and respectable woman, and was rather fond of her. However, he found her a lot less likeable after she'd just thrown him into a wall.

"Yeah, good witches," Belle squeaked. Grams raised a disbelieving eyebrow and chuckled. She did not easily trust teenaged intruders.

"Prove it. And don't you move, pal," she demanded, looking in Junior's direction. He had begun to stand from where he'd crash landed, but shrank against the wall upon his Grams' request.

Callie stepped forward cautiously, hands still upraised, and said, "Your name is Penelope Halliwell – maiden name, Johnson. You were first married to Allen Halliwell, and gave birth to a daughter, Patricia. Allen was killed by… a warlock, right? Patty had four daughters," Grams' eyes grew wide upon this statement. Only a family member would've known of Paige's existence. "Prue, Piper, Phoebe, and Paige – the Charmed Ones. I know all of this because I read it in the Book of Shadows." Though Grams was clearly surprised, she did not let her guard down.

Shaking her head, she cleared her throat and asked, "How do you know about Paige?"

"She's my mom," Junior said, finally taking a step forward. This time, Grams did not protest his movement.

"_Junior,"_ Callie hissed. She wasn't sure if he should be divulging all this information to Grams. Then again, as long as their moms – the past versions of them – didn't find out about the future, they wouldn't have much of a problem.

"Its fine, Cal," he said, waving her off carelessly. "I'm sure she's got a ton of memory dust in stock. Anyways," he turned back to Grams, "in case you couldn't already guess, we're kind of… from the future." Grams rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Is that so?"

"Yep," junior replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So let me get this straight: my granddaughters – my bickering, irresponsible granddaughters – are the Charmed Ones?" All three teens nodded non-chalantly.

"You kind of suspected that though, didn't you," Callie asked. "I mean, that's what you wrote in the book at least." Grams' mouth hung open in surprise, dozens of questions clearly flowing through her mind. Callie sighed in annoyance, turning to Junior, "We probably should've come up with aliases or something."

"Like we had time," Belle said.

"Wait," Grams interrupted, pointing to Junior. "You… you're Paige's son." He nodded, as she then turned to Callie and Belle. "And you two?"

"Oh, we're both Phoebe's," Belle replied. Grams shook her head once again and began walking towards Aunt Pearl's sofa. She plopped down, running her hands down her cheeks.

Staring towards the wall, Grams vacantly said, "She found them…"

"What," Callie asked, confused.

"Paige." She smiled suddenly, looking to Henry Jr. "I always knew that, despite not knowing each other, the sisters' magic would keep them forever bound to each other. That's how Paige found them, wasn't it?" Junior looked back to his cousins, unsure of how to answer. Paige had found her sisters mainly due to Prue's death; however, there was no way they could share such information with Grams. She was already shocked enough without hearing one of her granddaughters would die young. His only option was to lie.

"She grew into her powers and became their whitelighter," the young man replied with a fake grin.

"I can't believe it," Grams whispered, clearly happy about this information. "Blessed be… when do they become reunited? Not for awhile, I'd suppose." Junior only shrugged.

"I couldn't say. What year is it?" Grams smirked at the three teens.

"You don't know where you travelled to?"

"Well, uhm, that's the problem," Callie replied, nearing the sofa. "We hadn't planned on going to the past. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. We were tailing a warlock and ended up jumping into his portal at the last second. See, he's been vying for Charmed power lately, and we were afraid of the kind of damage he could cause from the past."

"You made the right decision," Grams smiled. "The year is 1992." Belle burst out laughing immediately, whereas Junior and Callie stood with their mouths gaping open.

"1992," Belle asked incredulously. "My God, I can't wait to see Mom…"

"You can't see her," Grams said, as Belle's face fell. "Any of them, really."

"Why not," Junior asked, disappointed.

"What am I going to tell them? 'Oh, by the way, dears, I'd like you to meet your future children'."

"They don't even know my mom exists, so that shouldn't be a problem," Junior said.

"Still-"

"We'll have to make something up," Callie said, shaking her head. "Listen, Grams. The warlock came here for a reason. I'm not sure what it is, but I'll bet you anything it's not good. We need to be here to protect Mom, Piper, and Prue."

"I can protect them."

"No, you can't."

"Oh, really," Grams scoffed with a raised brow. Callie merely smiled.

"This warlock exists in a time where the Charmed Ones have been constituted. In _our_ Book of Shadows, it states that only the power of three can vanquish him. So, face it, you're going to need us to stick around." Grams reluctantly nodded, though a puzzled expression came over her face and she turned to Junior.

"You are a Charmed One?" For a moment, the question made no sense to Junior, but as he thought about it, he understood Grams' confusion. Had their story been true, his mother would've been nothing more than a witchlighter – she wouldn't have acquired the power of three.

"Yes, I am," he answered. "My mom wasn't rightfully a part of the power of three, though she was still Charmed. So, when she gave birth to my two sisters and me, _we_ inherited the power of three that had bypassed her." Callie let out a quiet breath of relief. Junior had thought of a very reasonable cover, at least.

"Well… yes, I suppose that does make sense," Grams pondered. "Dears, what are your names?"

"My name is Callie. I'm Phoebe's middle child. And this is Belle, her youngest."

"My name is Henry… Henry Jr., after my dad. I have two older sisters – twins."

"Marvelous," Grams exclaimed. "All four of my granddaughters had three children of their own?" Callie nodded as Grams' eyes glowed with pride. It was certainly best she was left to believe Prue was alive – she was so happy to think of all four of them having their own Charmed children.

"We had to take up the mantle, you know. Fighting evil and all that," Belle said smugly.

"What are your powers," the old woman asked excitedly. Yet as the question left her mouth, she heard a door slam below them, followed by the sounds of yelling. All three young witches stood at attention, assuming the worst. The warlock must've attacked already. Grams picked up on this fact and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. I know that sound very well… Phoebe and Prue must be fighting again. She was supposed to pick Phoebe up from school today – she's grounded," Grams muttered, standing and walking towards the door. Yet all of her great grandchildren remained still, and she turned and smiled at them. "Come along then, dears. I'll think of an excuse along the way."

The three young witches smiled, knowing they'd been offered a rare opportunity to meet the Charmed Ones… before they were Charmed.

* * *

As the three young witches followed their great grandmother down the staircase, they were met with two rather startling sights. The first to greet them was that of their eldest aunt, the aunt they'd met on only a few brief occasions over the course of their lives. In all the times they'd encountered her previously, she'd been encased in a softly stunning white light, eternally preserving her thirty year old form. Though always youthful in appearance, her nature had calmed itself serenely in death, leaving her with an aura of wisdom and tolerance.

The Prudence Halliwell they now encountered, bursting through the foyer and treading into the kitchen in a whirlwind, was so unlike the aunt they'd known. At only twenty two years of age, this Prue, the Prue of the past, was boisterous and clearly imperious in demeanor. The moment the three young witches – her nieces and nephew – met her presence, they were in total awe and amusement. Their aunt strode past them ignorantly, hands flailing through the air in exasperation and utter frustration. She growled towards her youngest sister without even acknowledging her Grams as she walked past her.

"_Shut up_, Phoebe!"

"I'm just saying, Prue," a mischievous voice called from the foyer. Both Callie and Belle stood in complete anticipation at the sound of this familiar voice, awaiting the arrival of their mother.

"Stop it," Prue yelled, disappearing inside the kitchen. Grams looked back at her great grandchildren and sighed, her eyebrows raised in mutual enjoyment. Suddenly, a suspiciously light backpack was thrown to the floor before them, and an impishly petite brunette walked grinning towards the staircase.

"Hey, Grams," she said quickly. However, the young Phoebe Halliwell stopped short when she noticed the unknown visitors perched on the stairs behind her grandmother. Immediately, Callie felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she tried, with much difficulty, to sustain a neutral expression upon her face. Yet within, her jaw was dropped in complete wonder at the sight before her.

For a moment, Callie was certain she'd heard Belle muttering under her breath in total enjoyment. Junior, who was at times more obnoxiously forward than the brash and impulsive Annabelle, conspicuously stifled a laugh. Blushing further, Callie jabbed her cousin discreetly in the ribs. Luckily, her mother hadn't seemed to notice any of this. She merely turned back to Grams and raised a confused eyebrow.

With Phoebe's gaze upon her grandmother, Callie seized the moment to take in the sight of her seventeen year old mother. _My God,_ she thought in astonishment. _She's only seventeen… she's only a year older than me! And I'm her daughter…_ Callie shook her head, but was unable to shake the grin from her lips. Her mother was so undeniably… grunge – it was comical. The young woman shoved her hands into her pants pockets indifferently – her leather jacket and tight Nirvana shirt screaming attitude as she did. Her jeans were torn and tattered so carelessly, it was almost impossible to tell it'd been done on purpose. In fact, every piece of clothing she wore, right down to her scuffed Doc Martens, seemed to contain holes that had been patched and pinned haphazardly together. Had Callie or one of her sisters ever attempted to walk out of the house in such an outfit, their mother would've forbidden it.

In fact, Callie was starting to doubt that the snarky, apathetic teen standing before them was even her mother. The Phoebe Halliwell she knew was so professional, caring, and well put together. Yet this young woman seemed decidedly brazen and impetuous. A grin threatened to break out over Cal's lips as she looked over to her sister Belle, who she now realized epitomized the younger version of their mother. Prudence, too, was so much like this seventeen year old Phoebe. This thought caused Callie to frown slightly, as she was finding it difficult to distinguish any concrete similarity between herself and her mother. She had to suppose she took after her father entirely, but she knew there were some small parts of her that resembled Phoebe's personality.

One thing was certain to Callie though: she was nothing like this rebellious, past version of her mother.

"We have guests?"

"Yes," Grams replied calmly, a smile breeching her lips. "Prudence," she called towards the kitchen, "would you mind putting aside your aggravation and joining me in the living room for a minute?" There was a pause as Grams turned around and ushered the three future visitors into the living room. Callie snorted when she realized much of the furniture would remain the same when they returned to their time. "Prudence?"

A sigh was heard from the kitchen as Prue ambled out, nudging Phoebe purposely as she walked through the archway. Phoebe merely smiled, standing against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"We have visitors," Prue asked, confused as she finally acknowledged the three witches' presences. Grams nodded and Prue extended her hand, an amicable smile forced across her face. "Hi, I don't believe we've met. I'm Prue." Callie took her hand first, grinning as she did.

"Nice to meet you, I'm," The young woman momentarily froze when she realized she hadn't come up with any sort of alias, or story. Not thinking, she sputtered the first name that came to mind. "I'm Cassie," she replied, somewhat awkwardly. "This is my brother, Alex, and my sister, Annie." Prue shook each of their hands as Grams sat down on the arm of the couch. She seemed to have concocted some sort of story… either that, or she was planning on using a good amount of memory dust on her granddaughters.

"You girls remember my friend, Helen, don't you? We play bridge together every month."

"Yeah, of course," Prue replied.

"These are her grandchildren – they've been staying with her all week. Unfortunately, she's been feeling rather sick and asked if I could take them in for a night or two, until she feels better."

"Oh, okay… what's the matter with her?"

"Stomach virus," Junior said casually, waving off Helen's fictitious illness without much care. "She's not in a very _pleasant_ condition, but she'll be back on her feet in a day or two."

"Well, I'm glad it's nothing too serious."

"Like Alex said, she'll be fine in a few days. In the meantime," Grams said excitedly, "Let's make them feel at home. Phoebe, maybe you could even keep them company a bit? You're all around the same age." Though her mother didn't seem thrilled by the idea, Callie certainly hoped she'd get the chance to talk to her at some point.

"Uh…" Noticing both Grams' and Prue's deathly stares, Phoebe shrugged. "Okay. How old are you guys?"

"What, Grandma Helen doesn't talk about us much," Junior asked wryly. Both Callie and Belle had to stop themselves from elbowing him in the ribs. He and his arrogant sarcasm were probably their greatest liability for getting discovered.

"I'm seventeen – the oldest," Callie lied, to what she knew was Junior's annoyance. Of course he'd want to assume the position of the oldest, the leader. "Alex is sixteen, and-"

"I'm fourteen," Belle interrupted, seizing the chance to make herself older.

"Cool. I'm seventeen, too," Phoebe replied, speaking directly to Callie for the first time since their arrival. Callie's heart began to beat faster, and she realized how excited she was to get to know her mother as a teenager, if only for a brief period of time. Regularly, despite how loving and open Phoebe was with her daughters, Callie still found she had a hard to talking to her. For reasons she couldn't understand, she found her mother to be intimidating. She generally assumed it was because she looked up to and respected her mother so much – she was beautiful, intelligent, and loveable – a real success. Callie, on the other hand, was insecure, overly analytical, and too nervous to make many friends. Most of the time, she just felt too different from Phoebe to really connect with her.

However, she realized she might have better luck talking to a seventeen year old version of Phoebe. She still appeared as beautiful and confident as ever, but she was now on the same level as Callie. They were peers, and therefore had common ground to share. Hopefully they would have more in common than _just_ age though.

"Yeah, cool…" There was a short awkward pause as the introductions ended. Noticing this, Grams dismissed both Prue and Phoebe, clearly wanting to have a more private word with the three witches. As soon as his aunts were out of earshot, Junior began laughing.

"Oh, man… this is priceless," He said, chuckling. "I can't wait to meet Aunt Piper, and… Mom! I bet she was such a dork…"

"Keep in mind, Henry, that your mother has yet to meet her sisters. Introducing yourself to her, alias or not, is probably not the best idea." Junior's face fell immediately, and he was about to protest. "However, there's probably a good chance that she is in just as much danger from this warlock as your aunts are. You're going to have to check in on her."

"Good point," Callie added. "You can orb us in secretly, Junior. We'll set up some protection spells, make sure she's safe, and then return here. I know it sucks you won't actually be able to… really talk to her. But at least you'll get to see her."

"I have a highly effective cloaking spell you can use to sneak in undetected. That way you can take a few minutes for observation without worrying."

"Well… okay. That sounds pretty good," Junior smiled.

"You'll also have to set up a few protection spells at Prue and Piper's apartment," Grams said.

"Not a problem. We can stay on the defensive for today, at least."

"Exactly. Keep your mothers and aunts protected, but… take some time to enjoy this little excursion. After all, it's not every day you find yourselves in the past."

"Yeah, no kidding," Belle replied. "And from the looks of Mom's goofy, 'badass' wardrobe, there's _plenty _to enjoy here."

* * *

**PLEASE review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the major delay on this chapter... I lost steam during my finals week in December and have had a hard time getting going again. But now I'm almost back into the swing of things and am ready to present chapter 9. Please remember, kind critiques and suggestions will keep me inspired, so don't be shy! Now enjoy...**

**Chapter 9:  
**The three young witches sat awkwardly around the dining room table in the manor, trying to enjoy the meal that Piper had prepared. It was a comfort for Callie, Junior, and Belle to share in their aunt's culinary prowess, which, though underdeveloped, had prepared a delicious meal reminiscent of those she cooked for their family every Sunday. However, they couldn't deny their discomfort as they picked around their plates in silence, inwardly cringing at the pregnant pauses abounding. Ideally, the three future visitors would've engaged in rewarding and revealing conversations with their past relatives, all laughing, smiling, and generally enjoying each other's company. In reality, Phoebe, Piper, and Prue especially had been forced to stay and endure dinner with their guests, and seemed none too happy about it.

During their meal, Phoebe was… well, quite like Callie's older sister. Having been forced to eat dinner she was sarcastic and curt. Piper remained neutral and pleasant, though seemingly indifferent to their guests. And Prue, of course, was courteous despite her reluctance, smiling and even _trying_ to make conversation with her future nieces and nephew. Unfortunately, however, the young witches were so in awe, and had such difficulty in hiding it, that their conversational skills were left hindered. No one really knew what to say, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't be able to do so without making slight fools of themselves.

The only person sitting at the dinner table with complete ease, and even overt joy, was Grams. She was especially exuberant, much to her granddaughters' annoyance, and beamed across the table at her great-grandchildren. No one could help but blush at how unusually excited and gawky she was being in the presence of her visitors, especially the witches themselves.

"Are you enjoying your pasta," Grams asked in another attempt to break the silence.

"Yes," Callie cleared her throat and nodded, turning to Piper. It was so weird to see her Aunt Piper, the matriarch of the family, who generally sat at the head of the table, seated meekly between her sisters. As she'd aged, she'd become something of a force of nature – a force no young Halliwell had ever dared to talk back to or contend with in any way. But here, in 1992, she seemed as quiet and reserved as Callie herself, a fact that surprised her greatly. "And you made this all yourself, Piper?"

"Yeah, I did. From one of my own recipes, actually."

Junior grinned, and with knowing candor said, "Impressive. Maybe you'll make a career out of it someday."

"Oh, I don't know," Piper blushed.

"You easily could, Pipe," Prue interjected, smiling confidently towards her younger sister. "Obviously I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"I mean, you could like… open your own restaurant or something. You know, in the future." Piper's cheeks were beat red as she dropped her eyes to her plate. Still, no one could help but notice the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The three cousins had to stifle giggles as Grams eyed them curiously.

"So," Prue said amicably, "what kind of hobbies do you guys have?" She then shot a sharp glance at her youngest sister, who had remained apathetically removed from the conversation all through dinner.

"I'm pretty into sports," Junior said proudly, after swallowing a hearty mouthful of pasta.

Belle rolled her eyes at her cousin and murmured, "Yeah, as if _that_ wasn't obvious." Junior snickered and Callie found herself rolling her eyes at both of them. As usual, it seemed she would shine through as the most mature of the three of them. In fact, compared to both of her sisters and older cousins in many situations, she could be considered the most mature. This had always been a fact her parents were so proud of. She, on the other hand, found it to be somewhat of a nuisance – at least socially.

"Well, I'm not a meat-head, but I'm pretty athletic, too. I love to swim, and I'm on my school's diving team."

"That's pretty cool," Prue said, though Callie was sure she was only being polite. From what her mother had told her, her Aunt Prue had never been a fan of the water, and for a good reason. "And what about you, Cassie?"

"Uhm," Cal paused for a moment, wishing she could offer up some neat, interesting hobby that might pique her mother's interest. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything "cool". "Nothing special, really… I spend a lot of my time reading." In spite of herself, Callie felt a mild blush rising into her cheeks. She was a dork, even in the past – she was certain of that.

However, she at least seemed to interest her Aunt Piper. "Yeah? What kind of books?"

"Oh… just about anything."

"She reads all this goofy poetry," Belle interjected. Callie bit her lip and kicked Belle lightly under the table. However, Piper's eyes seemed to light up a bit.

"I love poetry. Who are some of your favorite poets?"

"It's kind of hard to choose… but I suppose my top three would be Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, and Anne Sexton." Piper smiled and Phoebe actually lifted her eyes from her plate.

"I've read Anne Sexton," she said, much to the surprise of both her older sisters.

"Really," Prue asked.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have," she said defensively. "We read of few of her poems in English class. I actually liked them a lot, so I checked out one of her books from the library." Callie found it humorous and admittedly a bit sad how her aunts and great-grandmother stared at her mother with such surprise.

"I, uh, never knew that Phoebes," Piper mumbled.

"Yeah, well…" Phoebe said, peering down at her food with apparent embarrassment. "Shame she killed herself." Callie snorted at her mother's bluntness, a trait obviously passed down to her youngest sister.

"Yeah, it does suck," Cal said. "But it's pretty typical stuff. You'd think eventually those poets might try a more original death. Take Tennessee Williams, for instance. He was a playwright, and he choked to death on a bottle cap." At first only Belle and Junior seemed to pick up on the latent humor in Callie's sarcasm. Then she was delighted to see her mother smirk.

"Huh, death by bottle cap… that is pretty original."

"Yes, original. But not the most pleasant dinner conversation," Grams said, pursing her lips.

"It's better than 'discussing hobbies'."

"At least we were being sociable," Prue mumbled.

"And for that, you are such a _saint,_" Phoebe snapped as she stood from the table, taking her plate. "I'm done eating. Thanks for dinner, Pipe." It seemed that for a moment Grams would protest, but Phoebe didn't allow her the chance before shuffling out of the room. Agitation then passed through Grams' face as she excused herself from the table to rebuke her youngest granddaughter.

"Sorry about that," Piper said quickly after a few seconds of silence.

"Its fine," Belle replied, picking a bit more happily at her pasta. "We get that a lot in our family, too."

"That's an understatement," Junior said with a laugh.

* * *

About a half an hour after dinner, Prue and Piper, having felt they'd fulfilled their duty to appease Grams, left for home. Not long before that, Phoebe had left abruptly with some seedy friends who'd come to pick her up. She's promised to be home at nine, but Cal doubted it would happen. Nevertheless, the house was empty, and with a ten or fifteen minute window before Prue and Piper would arrive at their apartment, the young witches decided now would be the best time to set up protective spells and crystals. Grams agreed and quickly stocked them with the necessary materials, as well as the proper address. Junior then orbed himself and his cousins into the apartment for rapid security measures.

For novice witches, setting up such protective spells could've taken well over ten minutes; however, the young Charmed Ones proved to be an exception. One of the first things they'd ever learned of the Wiccan craft was defense. It made sense, seeing as their parents were so neurotic and over-protective, that the art of defensive magic be drilled repeatedly into each of their skulls. So, their trip to the apartment was an in-and-out affair. They placed the crystals discreetly, uttered a few spells, and that was that. From there, they should've headed back to the manor, but Junior had other plans.

"Uhm, what are we doing here," Belle asked as the young man orbed them into an alleyway behind Prue and Piper's apartment building. Junior merely grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, an action that was enough to make Callie protest whatever plan he had in mind, before even knowing what it was.

"Hear me out," Junior said, placing his palm over Callie's mouth. "I know Grams wants us to wait before we pay my mom a visit, but I say we do it now. While we're out."

"Oh, c'mon, Junior," Cal whined, feeling annoyed. "We're a little ill-prepared, don't you think? We don't even know where your mom would be in 1992."

"Just outside of the city. She showed us the house she grew up in before," he said confidently.

"And you remember the address?"

"Well, no. _But_ while you two and Grams were rummaging for crystals and everything, I swiped a couple spells from The Book."

"Which would be?"

"The first is a lost and found spell that your mom wrote. I should be able to reword it to find _my_ mom. And the second is an invisibility spell, so I can sneak in undetected and set up the security measures." Callie frowned warily and sighed. She didn't want to disobey Grams, but at the same time, she didn't want to leave her Aunt Paige unprotected. She was sure Henry's main motive was that he wanted to see his mother as an awkward fifteen year old, but she also knew he worried for her. So, as much as she wanted to tell Junior just to take them back the manor, she couldn't.

"Alright… let me see the invisibility spell," Junior handed over a folded piece of paper and Belle squealed with joy.

"We get to see Aunt Paige, too?"

"Junior will, for sure. And yes, us too, as long as I can modify this spell a bit."

"You'll figure it out, Cal. You always do," Junior said sweetly.

"I know you're happy, but please don't kiss my ass. I need silence for a minute so I can think." Junior grinned and nodded, placing his arm around the shoulder of an equally excited Annabelle. Then, after a moment of silence, Cal nodded and asked, "Got it. Either of you have a pen?"

"Uh huh," Junior produced a pen from his pocket and handed it to Callie, who quickly began scribbling down the new and improved spell.

"Okay, I've worded this in a way so that we should still be able to see each other… or, I hope. Now read this with me." The three witches huddled together, but before they began their recitation, Belle hesitated.

"Wait… how will we even know if it worked?"

"You'll probably feel _something_," Junior replied. "If not, just look in a window. If you don't see a reflection, that's probably a good indication it worked." Belle nodded and rejoined the huddle.

"_The Power of three _

_In this time misplaced_

_From the vision of others_

_Let us be erased." _All three witches registered a strange and sudden sensation enshroud their bodies as the magic took hold. Callie felt pretty certain that _something_ had happened, and that that something was invisibility. However, just to be sure, she grabbed her cousin and sister and dragged them over to the nearest window. She peered hard into the surface of the glass, trying to find some trace of their reflections, but there was none.

"Huh, it worked," she said with satisfied a smile.

"Nice one," Junior said, slapping her excitedly on the back. He then pulled a second piece of paper from his pocket and took the pen from Callie, scribbling quickly. "I should be able to get away with tweaking a word or two in this one… alright. Grab onto me," Callie and Belle stood at either side of him, hoping his spell would work.

"_Guiding spirits I ask your charity, _

_Lend me your focus and clarity,_

_Lead me to what I cannot find,_

_To protect my mother and our future lives." _Together, the three young Charmed Ones were engulfed in a dizzying swirl that left them with the light, disembodied sense of orbing. However, this was merely the sensation of dematerialization, as they were to be transported through space. When they finally reformed, they found themselves standing in an unfamiliar bedroom amidst piles of clothing, crumbled papers, and cassettes. The room itself was probably rather large, but with the clutter of furniture, teenage possessions, and the mass of posters and pictures lining the walls, it felt cramped.

Stepping forward, Junior assumed that they were alone in the room, and his brow furrowed. His mother _should_ be here… he knew because the objective of the spell was to take them directly to her. Not only that, but there was a half empty glass of something on the dresser, and a cigarette left burning in an ashtray on the windowsill. It appeared she had been in here just recently… but where was she now?

Junior panicked suddenly. Perhaps the warlock had thought it better to eliminate his mother before killing any of his aunts. His heart beat quickly when he heard a ruffling in the closet behind them, and he turned on his heel defensively.

"Ahh, here it is," he heard a muffled yet familiar voice say happily. A moment later, a petite figure emerged from the dark closet with a bottle in hand and bounded over to her desk. As he stood watching her top off her glass with what he could only imagine was some kind of liquor, he had to keep from gasping. He felt Callie or Belle nudge him roughly, but he paid them no mind. He was so surprised he couldn't do a thing.

His shock could mainly be attributed to the fact that he was standing in front of a fifteen year old version of his mother, with pin-straight black hair, braces, dark makeup, and a grungy, hole-ridden outfit that reminded him so much of what his Aunt Phoebe had been wearing earlier. Not only that, but here she was, smoking and drinking, two things she would _never_ do in his present. However, part of his shock was also related to the fact that he could've been staring at either one of his sisters in this moment. Sure, he'd always known that Peyton and Pandora looked a lot like their mom; but to see how she'd appeared at roughly their same age made the resemblance far more uncanny.

Finally tearing his eyes away from his mother, who now sat down next to the open window, sipping her drink and finishing her cigarette, he glanced over at his cousins. Callie and Belle stared back at him with the same goofy, humored smile he was sure to have worn while watching his aunts. He wanted quite badly to voice his thoughts, but knew he'd have to wait until his mother left the room. In the meantime, he merely mouthed a few of his comments while the girls stifled their laughter.

After a few more moments, however, Callie's face turned a bit more serious, and she pointed to the crystals they'd stuffed in their pockets. They would have to figure out a way to get Paige out of the room; or, they would've, had her father, Junior's grandfather, he noted with some amazement, not started banging on the door.

"Paige!" Startled, she dropped the glass in her hand and muttered a curse. She then stubbed out her cigarette and pushed the ashtray out the window.

"Yeah," she replied coyly, stashing the bottle under her bed before sprinting to the door. "What's up, Dad?"

"Open the door!" Clearing her throat and trying to compose herself, Paige opened the door and forced an innocent smile. Unfortunately, she couldn't hide the drunken sheen that had glazed over her eyes; but it seemed her father was far more concerned with the smoke he'd smelled from down the hall.

"Hi…"

"Paige…" Mark Matthews paused for a moment, eyeing his daughter up and down with a great deal of disappointment and waning anger. Folding his arms over his chest, he merely shook his head then. "I'm glad your mom wasn't home this time to smell the cigarette smoke."

"What are you-"

"Don't lie," he said sharply. "You'll only end up making your punishment worse." Paige sighed, not really seeming to fear the consequences, but clearly hating that she'd been caught.

"What is it going to be this time," she asked tiredly.

"When your mother gets home, we will discuss it. But in the meantime, you are coming downstairs with me. I'm not leaving you up here alone to do whatever it is you weren't supposed to be doing." Junior almost couldn't help himself from snickering that time. He simply couldn't believe what his mother had been like. In a lot of ways, it reminded him of Pandora, in particular. True, he and both his sisters were like their mother in personality, but it seemed Pandora especially had inherited Paige's rebellious streak. She wasn't terrible, of course, and had never gotten suspended from school like their mother had. But she'd definitely done her share of drinking and cigarette smoking. Unlike their mother, however, Pandora had never been careless enough to get caught doing these things.

The three witches waited a few moments after Paige had left the room before spreading out to begin placing the crystals. Once they'd finally heard the last of the descending footsteps fade upon the stairs, Callie and Belle let out whispered giggles.

"Junior… your mom," Belle laughed teasingly. Henry sneered back at the two of them. In a way, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by his mother. After all, he'd never put very much thought into the amount of growing she'd done since she was his age, and the facts were shocking. She'd never liked talking about her teen years much, and now Junior understood why: she'd been _bad_.

"C'mon, she's not any worse than _your_ mom," he rebuked.

"Yeah," Callie shrugged, letting go of the last of her giggles and stashing a crystal behind her aunt's dresser, "but we expected that. Mom never kept her days of bad-assed-ness a secret."

"But _your_ mom," Belle persisted, "I just assumed she was gawky and quiet. You know, like Aunt Piper. Or Callie." Callie picked a paper ball up off the floor and chucked it at her sister's head.

"Hey, don't touch anything," Junior reprimanded.

"Look around… she's not going to notice." Sighing, Junior pulled a crystal from his pocket and scoured around for the right spot to place it in. Together they would cast protective spells over the entire house; but in case of a warlock attack, Paige's room would most likely be the focal point, hence the crystals. Eventually, he decided to hide his crystal under a pile of clothes near the door, and silently hoped his mother wouldn't decide to clean in the next day or two. Of course, the current state of her room appeared to be the accumulation of at least a few months' neglect, and he couldn't really foresee that happening.

"Belle, did you hide your crystal," he asked, distracted.

"Nope."

Looking up, he agitatedly asked, "Then what are you doing?" Of course, as he glanced over, he knew immediately what she was up to – she was flipping through a large pad of paper that had been sitting on Paige's desk.

"Belle, you shouldn't look through her stuff," Callie said, annoyed as she stole the last crystal from Belle's pocket. "We have work to do, you know."

"I know… I was just curious." Callie sighed exasperatedly and searched through the closet for the final crystal's hiding place. Junior, on the other hand, strode over to Belle's side and yanked the sketchpad out of her grasp. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself," Junior said, overcome with his own curiosity as he began looking over his mother's drawings. As he did, little goosebumps rose over the surface of his arms. It was such an odd feeling, to be standing there in his fifteen year old mother's bedroom, looking through her possessions, staring at her artwork – her beautiful artwork.

"I always knew Aunt Paige could draw, but not like this. Did you know?"

"I've seen some of her paintings and sketches – they're really good. But since having kids, I don't think she's really had the time to do this kind of stuff," he answered, transfixed upon an ink sketch of a boy – who the boy was, he had no idea; but considering his mother's age, he could only assume it was a crush. "But these… these are really good… Cal," he called, waving over his cousin, "come look at these." Callie joined them at Paige's desk and grinned.

"Those are incredible."

"I know," Junior mused, flipping another page. What he came upon next was a self-portrait, done all in watercolor. It was definitely his mother, definitely accurate; yet, in a way, he couldn't help but feel that it more resembled Peyton or Pandora than Paige herself. "Looks more like the twins than it does her," he remarked quietly.

Both of his cousins nodded, and Callie said, "Yeah, and she had no clue… I wonder if she still has these drawings. In our time, I mean."

"I guess we'll find out. But, in case she doesn't," Junior flipped to a detailed pencil drawing Paige had done of her own windowsill – ashtray and cigarette burning upon it, half-barren oak tree blowing outside of it – tore it out, folded it up, and put in his pocket.

"Weren't you just whining at us about touching things," Callie asked, her brow raised.

"Yep… c'mon, cut me a break though, guys. Like you said, your mom never kept her past a secret. But mine always has. And here I am with the perfect chance to have my own piece of it… you can't blame me." Both girls sighed, placing taking the sketchpad from Junior and placing it back on the desk.

"Alright, I won't say anything. But we really need to get these spells out of the way and head back to the manor. If we're not at least home before _my_ mom, Grams is going to freak." Henry and Belle nodded as Cal pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. Upon this paper, they had written two different protection spells. Together, the three witches quickly uttered the incantations, and hoped there were be no need for them, and if there was, they would work properly.

* * *

When the three young witches orbed back into the manor a few minutes later, after thoroughly checking to make sure nothing had been moved in Paige's room, Gram was already there, pacing around. It appeared at first that she was searching for some sort of potion ingredients, but as she noticed the orbs, she whipped around on her heel and stared in their direction with a look of confusion adorning her face. Of course, she was not able to see them yet, as they hadn't reversed the spell. And instead of addressing this fact, they all had agreed it would be much more amusing if they went about their business in a casual manner.

So, as Grams stared blankly and suspiciously in their direction, Junior said, "Hey, Grams. What's going on?"

"Henry?"

"Uh, yeah." Grams crossed her arms over her chest and straightened her posture. She probably knew they were playing with her, but they couldn't get enough of the look on her face.

"Are Callie and Annabelle standing next to you right now?"

"Sure are," Belle said.

"And how, or why are you invisible?"

"We cast a spell," Cal replied, quite obviously.

"No kidding," Grams laughed humorlessly. "But why?"

"We placed a set of crystals in my mom's bedroom," Junior said, "and set up the protection spells." Grams sighed and frowned a bit.

"I told you to wait."

"I know, but I had it all figured out. And I was worried about my mom. I didn't want anything to happen to her." Grams sighed and strode over to the book, searching for a reversal spell.

"You're sure she didn't see you?"

"Well, we were invisible," Junior replied. "So… no. Definitely not. We got in there and put down the crystals and said the spells. We didn't mess anything up. She won't know the difference."

"What invisibility spell did you use?" Callie pulled the modified spell out of her pocket and handed it towards Gram, who regarded the seemingly floating piece of paper with amusement.

"The original was from the book, but I tweaked it a bit." Looking over the spell Grams smirked proudly.

"You're good at this... not that I'm surprised."

"Thanks." Grams paused, reaching for a pen and concentrating on the spell before her.

"Well… normally I would be angry about your disobeying me. But considering my granddaughters do it all the time, I'm not shocked. And seeing as your worries were reasonable and your plan was sound, I won't say anything more. Except good work. Your parents taught you well." All three of the witches grinned, though Grams had no clue. "So, it should only take me a few to write up a reversal spell. In the meantime, you can go downstairs and grab a snack or something to drink. Phoebe's not home yet."

"Thanks, Grams."

* * *

Later that evening, after Callie, Junior, and Belle had been turned visible once again, and had spent some quality time getting to know their Grams, they all retired to bed. Junior was spending the night in Prue's old room, and Callie and Belle would be sharing Piper's. Since they had spent nearly four years during their childhood sharing a room together, neither really minded this one night much. What Callie _hated,_ though, was sharing a bed with her sister. She hated this for two reasons: one, Belle snored. Loudly. And two, as petite as she was, Belle seemed to acquire a mass amount of strength in her unconscious state, which she used to kick her big sister in the legs and force to the edge of the bed.

So, while her little sister was sleeping soundly beside her, and all three other occupants of the manor were pleasantly dreaming, Callie was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. In her mind, she was flirting with the idea of relocating to the floor; however, she was afraid she would wake up the next morning stiff as a board, and very grumpy. Eventually though, she came to the conclusion that she'd rather have an achy back than be pummeled by her sleeping sister all night, and so moved herself to the ground.

Still though, Callie could simply not fall asleep, and decided to take an unnecessary trip to the bathroom, just to bide her time. She tiptoed out of her room and down the hall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Coincidentally, during this same trip to the bathroom, she heard a sudden shuffling from a room down the hall and stopped dead. Fearing that perhaps the warlock had shown up, she made her way even more quietly towards the room at the end of the hall, the room she was sure to be her mother's. As she drew closer, she heard a quick, muffled thump followed by a subdued curse, and sped up.

When just outside of her mother's door, she noticed it was ajar, and snuck silently towards it. Now that she was closer, it didn't _sound_ like a warlock attack of any sort, and she relaxed a bit. She held her breath furtively and peeked in through the cracked door to find that the subtle clamor had come from her mother attempting to sneak out of the house through her window. Realizing this she felt immediately embarrassed and turned around, making a move to go back to her room. Unfortunately, as she turned, a floorboard creaked loudly under her foot, and she felt her face go red hot.

For a few awkward moments, Callie wasn't sure if she should just stay where she was, or run back to her room. If she rushed back down the hall, it would most likely make a pretty obvious amount of noise; however, that would still probably be a better alternative than just standing stock still outside of her mother's room like a creep. Either way, she was hoping her mother would just ignore it and pretend that she herself was asleep. Finally, Cal just conceded to return to her room; but only one half-step in, and the floorboard creaked again. There was no way Phoebe couldn't have heard that.

For many seconds, Cal stood there feeling like a complete fool until finally, to her horror, she heard her mother walking slowly to her own door.

"Hello," Phoebe whispered skeptically.

"Uh, hey," Callie replied feeling like an idiot. Phoebe immediately peeked around her door, her brow raised curiously.

"Cassie? Uhm… what are you doing out here?"

"I was… thirsty. I was going down to the kitchen for something to drink."

"Oh," Phoebe said, eyeing Callie up and down. It wasn't a very believable excuse, considering her current position, and Phoebe clearly picked up on that. "Then why are you just standing there. Outside my door."

"I was trying to be quiet." Phoebe raised a brow, hardly believing Callie. "Well, what was all that noise for? You, uh, woke me up," she lied.

"I did?"

"Yeah, I'm a light sleeper."

"Sorry..."

"So… what were you doing," Callie pressed. Phoebe eyed her future daughter once again, as if appraising her. After a moment, a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth and she motioned for Cal to come in. The young witch was particularly shocked by this gesture, but accepted it graciously, entering her bedroom.

Though Grams had given Junior, Belle, and her a tour of the house earlier, she hadn't seen Phoebe's room. Grams had explained it was far too messy for visitors, and kept the door shut as they walked past. Seeing it now, Callie had to admit, it was, ironically, what a future Phoebe would've referred to as a "sty". In fact, she'd used the word many, many times, in describing Prue's terribly chaotic mess of a room. Still, there was a certain charm to the disarray of her young mother's bedroom that was quite comfy. Wall to wall were plastered pictures and posters, most of bands like Nirvana, The Flaming Lips, Rolling Stones, and The Beatles. However, Callie couldn't help but smile when she noticed there was a _Kill It Before It Dies_ poster hanging just over her bed.

"Nice room."

"Thanks," Phoebe said, immediately rifling through a pile of clothes on the ground, pulling out a few articles here and there and tossing them over her shoulder.

"You've got a good taste in music."

"Yeah? You even like The Flaming Lips?" Callie nodded, containing a smirk.

"Definitely. Actually, it's kind of funny. They're my mom's favorite band. She got me to like them." Phoebe laughed. If only she could've known Cal was talking about her.

"Your mom likes them?"

"Sure does… So, what were you up to?"

Her mother pointed to the open window and said, "Going out."

"Going out where?"

"I was going to go down to the bay, have something to drink." Phoebe held up a water bottle and grinned mischievously.

"Water?"

"No," she laughed, "vodka."

"Oh."

"And, I don't know," Phoebe said, folding her arms across her chest and appraising Callie once again. She felt like her mother was judging her, which made her uncomfortable. "You seem pretty alright. I'd like the company. Wanna join me?" Once again, Callie was overtaken by surprise, but was so happy, she had to keep herself from bursting out with a "yes".

Instead, trying to act cool, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Yeah, that'd be fun."

"Good," Phoebe replied, leaning down into her pile of clothing again. "One thing though."

"What's that?" Sifting through the clothing she'd set aside, Phoebe picked up a leather jacket and holey pair of jeans.

"Throw these on. Your outfit is a little… eh." Looking down at the same clothing she'd arrived in, the clothing she'd been forced to sleep in, Cal realized it wasn't entirely generation-appropriate. Compared to her mother's grunge attire, the navy blue sweater and skinny jeans she wore weren't very… hip. She'd at least lucked out when wearing her chucks, but the jeans and jacket would be more necessary.

"Yeah, I wasn't, uh, planning on going anywhere today."

"Obviously," Phoebe laughed. Callie threw on the leather jacket and changed into the jeans. She wasn't very surprised to find that they fit her perfectly, a fact that made her smile inwardly. "Hey, they look pretty good on you." Callie blushed and looked down at her feet.

"Oh, my sneakers are downstairs."

"Well," Phoebe said, walking towards the window, "go grab them, and we'll head out. Just hurry." Nodding, Callie left the room, grinning from ear to ear. Only now, as she trotted quietly down the stairs was she able to register a very, very pleasant truth: she was about to actually _hang out_ with her seventeen year old mother. That night, there was nothing that could've made her happier.

* * *

**There's chapter nine... not my favorite, but I hope you liked it. The next one should be better, and will include some nice conversation between Phoebe and Callie.  
Please review!**


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